


Take Meow To Church

by neomints



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bokuro Start a Kenma Kitty Cult: The Fic, Cat Kozume Kenma, Crow Hinata Shouyou, Drinking, Fluff and Crack, Genderfluid Character, M/M, More ships/characters to be added..., Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Religion, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, everyone is trans no exceptions but the more obvious ones are:, kuroo is trans guy, tendou is genderfluid, this is just silly and is me having fun, ushijima and kita are nb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomints/pseuds/neomints
Summary: So then it makes sense that in this moment of true meditation, where Kuroo has never felt so at peace with both himself and the universe before, that he has a moment of religious epiphany.It’s right there and then, completely shitfaced in the aftermath of a house party at Ass o’clock in the am on a Friday night, that Kuroo seesGod.———Kuroo and Bokuto start a cult, Kenma is a cat, their roommates are swept up for the ride, and their neighbors get most of the fallout.





	1. Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for myself most of all, but is inspired by Jules, who kept making me laugh my ass off at all of my Kenma kitty drawings.
> 
> I have a few other things planned for this universe, but wether I’ll ever actually continue it is yet to be seen.
> 
> Either way I hope this chapter is fun, and that you really enjoy it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them has ever been particularly religious. They go to shrines every new year yeah, and they always take good luck charms with them before big games, but not like this. Never like this.
> 
> Bokuto and Kuroo had discovered God, and the revelation is enough to shake them to their very core.
> 
> \---
> 
> Bokuto and Kuroo meet God, and appoint themselves the true messiahs.

It starts as most good things do; with a couple shots of vodka, and a can of cider.

They stumble in half-sober from one hell of a party, a joint Johzenji-Nohebi graduate one no less, arms over one another's shoulders, stabilizing steps that have no business to be taken in their state of existence. 

They aren’t quite _drunk_ yet, just a few steps past tipsy and maybe a little giddy on laughter and a groove long gone. It’s for that reason exactly that Bokuto decides that maybe they _should_ be drunk, and in a sudden burst of genius Kuroo promptly cracks out the bottle they keep hidden for just this kind of situation.

The couple share their cheers and slump onto the couch in a show of majesty. Kuroo pushes his cat-paw shaped shot glass to his lips and lets it burn him gently. He sighs and sinks into the upholstery- an ugly thing Kai’s grandmother wanted gone, and that the two university students just couldn’t bare to say no to. He lifts his legs up off the floor, slow as stirring honey, then tries and fails to fumble his expensive high-tops off with the tips of his feet.

Bokuto laughs, his voice grating and heavenly to Kuroo’s ears, and pulls the offending three-salaries-worth shoes off his boyfriend’s feet. 

He pats them with more force than intended, congratulating himself loudly for a job well done, and Kuroo’s heart melts in a flurry of man-made liquid fire and pure _love_.

Kuroo lets the feeling encompass him. He sinks deeper into the arm rest, and lays both his feet on Bokuto’s lap. Bokuto laughs once more and lets himself stroke Kuroo’s calve, swinging his other arm behind his head as he leans back to relax.

The night air is cool through the window. The cicadas are humming playfully. The world is at peace. All is well.

So then it makes sense that in this moment of true meditation, where Kuroo has never felt so at peace with both himself and the universe before, that he has a moment of religious epiphany.

It’s right there and then, completely shitfaced in the aftermath of a house party at Ass o’clock in the am on a Friday night, that Kuroo sees _God._

“Holy shit,” he whispers, rapture finding its way into his very being.

“Wha’ssup bro?” Bokuto slurs back, the sound comes out as more of a hoarse half-scream than a whisper.

Kuroo struggles himself up, pushing himself off the armrest and into Bokuto’s big warm arms. His eyes are hyper focused on the view before him, so he gently pushes Bokuto’s chin in the right direction, mumbling incoherently.

Bokuto squints his eyes and watches for a drunkards year, after which he tilts his head to the side To lean into Kuroo’s bedhead, which is more deshelved than usual.

“Kur’o babe… what th’fuck am I looking at?”

“Shhh-!” Kuroo slaps his hand onto Bokuto’s lips unceremoniously, “Bo’ babe, I just saw s’methin’-” Kuroo stops mid-sentence. He blinks and pats Bokuto’s lips twice. The thought that Bokuto’s lips are _extremely_ soft flits through his brain for a second and he releases his boyfriend from his vice grip just long enough to peck him softly before slapping his hand back on his face, “Jus’ wait a sec, watch.”

So Bokuto watches.

They watch, and watch, and watch.

“Holy shit-!” Bokuto exclaims, voice muffled through Kuroo’s hand.

“Holy shit indeed,” Kuroo echoes.

There could be many explanations for the sight that the two of them see. Neighsayers might argue that it’s a trick of the light, that it’s just the reflection of one of the street lamps off the window in the kitchen. Others might blame it on the alcohol, the fuzzy juice sloshing around their brains and stomachs accounting for a great deal of the things they see that night. But Bokuto and Kuroo know better.

They know exactly what they see before them.

And what they see is a being of pure power, basking in the light of the sun right in the middle of the night, glowing like a beacon or an otherworldly star. A spitting image of Michelangelo’s “Creazione di Adamo”. Heaven itself opens up to them, and it’s gates are the strangely overgrown curtain of two-toned fur of a completely unfamiliar creature. It’s limbs extend gracefully like the tools of enlightenment, and it’s pelt is speckled with the secrets of every universe.

The creature reaches out and a fly floats away from it’s little appendage, then is quickly clawed out of thin air. A miracle of life, death, and rebirth. The creature looks at them and _speaks_ and the words it utters are slurred, but impactful.

Bokuto can already feel the tears in his eyes, 

Kuroo can taste a prayer on his tongue.

Neither of them has ever been particularly religious. They go to shrines every new year yeah, and they always take good luck charms with them before big games, but not like this. Never like this.

Bokuto and Kuroo had discovered God, and the revelation is enough to shake them to their very core.

———

Daishou turns the lock on the door and slumps inside his shared apartment. 

There’s lots of things he expects to see upon arrival; a shrine in the middle of the living room ranks maybe 16th on the list, right below Ushijima’s stolen lucky volleyball shorts, and above a rabid wild animal in the middle of the living room.

He glances at his roommates, asleep in a half prayer position on the floor, then at the cat on top of the pillow shrine. 

Kenma blinks at him and jumps off the shrine with the usual grace of a cat.

Daishou pushes the sight to the back of his mind; there could’ve been worse endings to the evening after all. He shrugs off his jacket and takes the chance to steal his roommates double bed, dreaming of booze, tongue piercings, and a cat with God’s face.


	2. Scriptures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m telling you ‘Shou, me and Kuroo saw _God_,” Bokuto whispers, real awe in his voice, his hands gripping Daishou’s forearm like a lifeline.
> 
> Daishou stares down at him blankly, his brain taking longer than usual to compute. When it finally does he scrunches up his face and squints his eyes into narrow slits.
> 
> “What,” He says, voice deadpan.
> 
> \---
> 
> Bokuto and Kuroo begin to share the message of their new religion, and a whole set of apostles is introduced...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! I've decided I will to the best of my ability be making this fic a reality... 
> 
> This chapter is a LOT longer than the last, and has a much bigger cast than anything else I've ever written
> 
> With that said I hope you find this a fun ride, and that you let Kenma Kitty into your Soul.

Kita Shinsuke is a simple man.

He has a simple apartment, simple hobbies, and a simple boyfriend. There’s a reason he chose to go for a degree in business administration, and it’s because he likes things this way; blissfully repetitive and similar. Most things in his life tend to fall under these categories, from his daily chores to the kiss Ushijima presses against his temple every day at 7:30 am on the dot, as Kita finishes cleaning the bowls and moves onto the cutlery. 

Kita enjoys and revels in the simplicity of it all. However, he is also a man of realistic beliefs, and it’s for this reason exactly that he is not surprised when he hears shouting and banging from the apartment right next to his.

For _most_ things in his life tend to be simple, and his neighbors are not one of those things.

A small smile makes its way onto his face. He doesn’t know what to expect from today just yet, but he knows it’ll be interesting.

———

“Bokuto I swear to fucking God if you don’t lower your voice I am going to fucking maim you with a volleyball.”

To Daishou’s surprise Bokuto _does_ lower his voice. This, more than the throbbing hangover blossoming in his head, grabs his attention. Bokuto _never_ lowers his voice, not when he’s in the library, or when he’s about to meet a newborn, or even when it’s an important exam; there’s a reason he needs to be tested on his own in his own room after all. It takes something really important for Bokuto to really lower his voice to what is considered a regular volume to any human, and that fact alone makes Daishou sit up a bit straighter in his friends’ bed.

“I’m telling you ‘Shou, me and Kuroo saw _God_,” Bokuto whispers, real awe in his voice, his hands gripping Daishou’s forearm like a lifeline.

Daishou stares down at him blankly, his brain taking longer than usual to compute. When it finally does he scrunches up his face and squints his eyes into narrow slits.

“What,” He says, voice deadpan.

“You heard him!” Kuroo exclaims loudly as he walks into the room, one arm on his hip and the other cradling their pet cat like it was a rucksack made of gold. Kenma’s face is the usual grumpy one, but it’s definitely more subdued than it usually is. Of course if anyone else but Kuroo was the one flinging him around like a diamond-studded potato sack they wouldn’t live to see the light of day.

Daishou slumps his head back against the headboard and glances at the alarm clock next to him. Fucking 7:00 am? What the fuck. 

“I did,” Daishou mumbles, gesturing to Bokuto with his free arm, “but that doesn’t mean I got a damn lick of it. The fuck you mean you saw God, did you have another near death experience?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes and dumps Kenma onto Daishou’s lap, “No we didn’t.”

“And that wasn’t a near death experience!” Bokuto adds, “the doctors said I had a 75% chance of survival!”

“Yeah babe not even death can keep you down,” Kuroo says fondly, leaning an arm over Bokuto’s head where he’s leaning next to their bedside. He turns to Daishou and points straight at Kenma, “that, right there, is God.”

Now Daishou has never been particularly religious, in fact he is what he’d call an atheist at best. He’ll only go to shrines for the free food, and he refuses to grab any good luck charms for any event, believing in making his own luck before relying on a being he can’t even see to solve all his problems for him. Why get an imaginary friend to do your dirty work for you when scheming and cheating is already an option? 

It’s for this exact reason that Daishou’s brain short circuits. In a haze of the aftermaths of a sickass party, far too many bottles, and a little bit of heartache, all Daishou could say is a simple “What the fuck?” before promptly passing out.

He doesn’t feel his roommates trying to wake him up, but he does feel the warmth of a smooth paw patting his cheek.

And if he sleeps a little easier, he tries not to think of it being as a result of that damn cat.

———

Bokuto huffs, he’s been trying to wake Daishou up for a good ten minutes and the guys still out cold! You’d think he’s never been up at the asscrack of dawn to appreciate a heavenly deity before with how he’s taking all this. 

Kuroo pats Bokuto’s head gently and smiles, it’s just a little quirk of the corner of his lips but it still makes Bokuto’s heart jump, even after all these years.

“He’s not gonna wake up Bo, just let him be,” Kuroo says, softly.

Bokuto grabs Kuroo’s hand and places a soft kiss onto his palm. Kuroo chuckles and it makes Bokuto smile like an idiot. How could he have ever guessed things would be like this when they’d met back in their first year of highschool? 

“You said you wanted to make posters didn’t you Bo?” Kuroo says.

Instantly Bokuto perks up, he stands up and nods enthusiastically, “YEAH! Imagine how many people we could get to appreciate Kenma in all his radiance you know?? Like there’s just two of us now but what if we make it BIG bro!” 

It’s Kuroo’s turn to smile like an idiot then, and he claps Bokuto’s shoulder heartily. “I’ve got work soon but you fuckin’ go for it Bubby,” he turns to Kenma, lounging lazily ontop of Daishou’s chest, tail dangerously close to suffocating the poor man, “and you do your thing, oh wisened one.”

Kenma meows in response, and Kuroo gives him a dramatic bow, folding himself in half, before heading out with a few calls of “I love you!” and a yawn.

Bokuto watches him go with love in his heart and joy in his soul. He cracks his back and sighs softly, “now where did we put those markers anyway?”

———

It takes about fifteen minutes for Kuroo to arrive at the movie theatre and promptly change into his work uniform. He rolls his neck twice and takes a hearty chug from his thermos, it’s full to the brim with the Terushima family’s secret miracle hangover cure. They’ve been guarding it for years; or at least they were until Kuroo managed to win it off the man himself in a very heated battle of runaround pingpong. He smiles at the memory and walks into the staff room, only to be greeted with Hoshiumi and Tendou scheming for the fifth time that week. 

Kuroo smirks and walks over, “what’ve you guys done this time?”

Tendou cackles inwardly and winks, “you’re gonna have to wait and see, Mr. Kitty Cat.”

“How do you feel about horror?” Hoshiumi says as he leans further into his hands from where he’s resting on their creaky coffee table, a mischievous glint in his eyes. So another illegal movie night it is.

Before Kuroo could open his mouth to respond with his personal favourite, a loud squeak sounds out from the back room.

“Y-you guys,” Yachi says, arms full of empty cardboard boxes heading towards the recycling bin round the back, “If you do something like that again Ukai-san will- EEP!” 

She doesn’t manage to finish her sentence before she’s already toppling down. Hoshiumi groans from his seat and moves up to help her. He lost last weeks bet for who has to help Yachi out in all her sticky situations, and he’s perfectly aware that blackmail, and consequently his job, are on the line.

Kuroo watches him go and seats himself in the chair he was preoccupying seconds ago. Tendou pushes his own chair closer to Kuroo’s and leans in just close enough for it to be a violation of personal space before smiling a toothy smile.

“So, what’s new, pussycat?” He says, eyes trained on Kuroo’s.

“If you’re asking about the party, it was alright,” Kuroo responds, taking a sip from his thermos.

“Hmm, hmm, what about the aftermath?” Tendou hums as he leans his head on the table right against Kuroo’s arm. The guy really knows how to get others unnerved, and whether it’s on purpose or not, the fact of the matter is that it works.

“Glad you asked!” Kuroo exclaims, pushing his thermos against Tendou’s head, “me and Bokuto are pretty sure we saw God last night.”

Tendou chuckles and his eyebrows furrow, Kuroo can’t tell if it’s in amusement or genuine worry, “crap, what in the world did you two drink?”

“Just Vodka really, and that’s not the point. Seriously, I’m convinced our pet cat is like literally a deity of sorts.”

Tendou nods, “I believe you.”

“Of course you do.”

“I mean, I’ve definitely heard stranger, Mr. Kitty cat.”

“Manga isn’t real life, Ten-dou,” Kuroo flicks him in the nose and Tendou moves up to rub it.

“Well if _you_ keep saying that _I_ won’t be the one to help you when I get my precure powers and you get turned into an evil monster,” Tendou starts miming a magical girl transformation just to really get his point across, and Kuroo rolls his eyes. When Tendou finishes he turns around in his seat so he can lean his arms on his knees and rest his chin in his open hands. He looks up at Kuroo and bobs his head from side to side, still smiling sneakily, “nothing else to report?”

Kuroo scoffs, and acts like he’s suddenly interested in the state of his unevenly-trimmed nails (hey, Bokuto tried and that’s what matters). He looks down at Tendou with a smirk, and speaks with his most well practiced nonchalant voice, “nope, not much. Although… if you’re asking about Ushiwaka, well he’s still head over heels for that boyfriend of his.”

Tendou flushes and whips himself back into his seat, “he is, is he? Uh, good for him.”

Kuroo cackles and it makes Tendou stand up and kick Kuroo’s shin. The two fight for a while before Hoshiumi calls them out front for the start of their shift. As they walk out Kuroo starts to wonder how his own boyfriend his doing, and whether he’s making trouble for Ushiwaka’s boyfriend again. That man deals with a lot, and Kuroo isn’t sure how where manages to get all that patience from.

All he can do is hope he would extend it to Bokuto for a little longer.

———

Kita Shinsuke is a patient man.

He’s lived his life the way his grandmother taught him; he takes every step as it comes, and never asks for more than he receives. If his help is needed he will offer it, and when he needs help he will not hesitate to ask for it. It’s for that reason specifically that he’s sitting in his neighbors living room, markers scattered all over the floor, and blood dripping from his neighbor’s nose.

“I’m telling you man, I swear I nearly died!” Bokuto exclaims, arms gesturing wildly, “I saw the pearly gates and everything!”

“Isn’t that the second near death experience ya had this year, Bokuto-san?” Kita says, dabbing antiseptic over the scratch on Bokuto’s forehead.

“Erghk! No! I’m telling you that last one was just a mistake.”

Kita chuckles, placing a bandage over Bokuto’s nose, “how did’ya manage to hurt yourself anyway?”

“Well!” Bokuto starts, pulling the cat that’s been circling his legs onto his lap, “I was trying to get the markers from on top of Kuroo’s closet, but I couldn’t quite reach. So THIS guy,” he picks up the cat and moves it’s little paws for emphasis, “pushed the box down to help me!”

“That sounds more like an assassination attempt, Bokuto-san.”

“Whubuh?! No that’s… I mean…” Bokuto flounders for a while longer, before settling on his words, “You don’t get it! I would’ve hurt myself MORE if it hadn’t been for Kenma’s benefactoring! I would’ve probably climbed the closet or something…”

Kita smiles, “yes, it looks like your pet _is_ pretty benevolent.”

“That’s what I said!” Bokuto nods to himself, stroking the cat slowly with his eyes closed. 

He looks deep in thought, and since Kita is a patient man, he waits for the realization.

It comes soon enough, and Bokuto snaps his eyes open with a loud gasp. He grabs Kita’s forearm and looks into his eyes seriously, “Kita-san, is it true you’re super in tune with spirits and stuff?!”

Kita rubs his chin, “well, _in tune_ isn’t the right word. My granma taught me to be diligent with my duties, since the deities are always watching. That doesn’t mean I understand that stuff any better than ya, though.”

The cat flicks its tail, leveling Kita with a flat stare. He stares at it back, and for a second he almost thinks that it’s kind of unnerving.

Bokuto on the other hand, looks dejected. He leans over and squishes the cat in his arms, a pronounced pout on his face, “aww… I was just hoping you could tell me if Kenma was God or not, cause me and Kuroo are pretty convinced!! But if someone like you isn’t then…”

Kita blinks, and looks at the cat. Now Kita has always been kind of religious, more out of obligation than any real belief of his own. He’s always diligent with his duties with his granma’s friends’ shrines, he’s always on time with his daily prayers, he keeps his granma’s good luck charms safe, and always makes sure to put them where they’d bring him the best of luck. He does it all, but never out of anything more than habit.

That’s probably why he looks into the cat’s eyes, deep and grumpy and clouded over, then shrugs. 

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible.”

Most things in Kita’s life tend to be simple, and he knows as he sees Bokuto’s smile spread to the edges of his ears telling Kita to stay over longer so they can talk about the cat, that this isn’t going to be one of them. 

A small smile makes its way onto his face. 

_This is going to be interesting._

———

Daishou has a list. 

It began at the end of his first year of university, the day that marked the time he started living with Bokuto and Kuroo. Over the past few months that he’d realized that he’d gotten a lot more than he bargained for, and needed some kind of coping mechanism to handle the sheer insanity of it all. Thus, the list was born.

There’s a lot of things on it, anything from fifteen broken tv sets (stolen), to Ushijima’s lucky shorts being used as a flag (not stolen, but definitely not taken with permission from the owner), and even a shrine dedicated towards their pet cat. 

Daishou is more than half way through his list of things he expects to see when he arrives in the living room, and Bokuto wrestling a wild bird on top of their coffee table while their neighbor chuckles on their couch ranks as 13th on this list.

Daishou rubs the hangover off his eyes, ignores the scene, and goes into the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

It’s gonna be a long day, but he has the night shift at the cafe, and that’s when he’s most likely to see tall, bottle-blond, and handsomely pierced. That thought alone helps him push the image of Bokuto attempting to kick a crow out of his mind, and replaces it with daydreams of the night before and his chances the coming night.

He thinks of coffee, nose piercings, and a crow with the sun for a head.


	3. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bokuro household has a family tradition, so to speak. Every third Saturday of the month they’d host a house party- or a brunch, or a smash beat-a-thon, or even a sleepover- whatever it is they do, it always happens on the third Saturday of the month, without fail.
> 
> \---
> 
> The apostles meet, and we are given insight into some of their religious epiphanies, and find the things that are worth praying for (love).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's currently 3:30 am and I'm finally done with this chapter and BOY is it a BEHEMOTH.
> 
> Anyway Mints says trans rights, if you get confused over the pronouns it's for this reason: the pronouns used reflect the character who's pov we're reading in, if a character is a aware of another's pronouns they'll use it, and characters will use different pronouns for themselves too of course.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Time for me to hit the hay *zzz*

The Bokuro household has a family tradition, so to speak. Every third Saturday of the month they’ll host a house party- or a brunch, or a smash beat-a-thon, or even a sleepover- whatever it is they do, it always happens on the third Saturday of the month, without fail.

It began on a nondescript Saturday in their first year of university; long before Bokuto and Kuroo had started dating, back when it was just the two of them and Ushijima as roommates, and his boyfriend was nothing more than their quiet neighbour Kita. Kuroo was studying while Bokuto and Ushijima watched a nature documentary on their couch. It was a mostly quiet and chill morning, until Kuroo had a startling realization.

“Hey, we haven’t seen our highschool friends in almost a month have we?” he’d said.

Ushijima looked at him, blank as always, Kenma laying his little kitty head on top of Ushijima’s, “A month and two weeks, for myself.”

“Huh,” Kuroo had responded.

They’d all gone back to their own activities, with Kenma deciding to move off the back of the couch and move towards Kuroo’s workspace. 

It’s then that Kuroo began to think that it was a shame he hadn’t seen his friends in so long, and the homesickness had started to sink in. Kenma jumped onto his lap, and Kuroo started to wish that he could see them again soon. Kenma, perhaps sensing Kuroo’s sadness in the way Bokuto said animals can do sometimes, had laid his paw onto Kuroo stubbly cheek. He’d smiled and pet the cat, when his phone began to ring.

He’d picked up the red flip phone, a rusty little hand-me-down from Kuroo’s parents, and spoke into the receiver, “Hello?”

“Kuroo, you ass,” the familiar voice had said, filling Kuroo’s soul with warmth, “it’s been a fucking month since you’ve called us! What the fuck have you been upto?”

“Yaku!” A wide smile found its place on Kuroo’s face, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Kuroo couldn’t believe his luck, it was like a little miracle had found its way into his home. ‘The little things make life worth living’ is what Kita would say, Kuroo had heard the phrase from his neighbor long after the tradition had been established.

“Say, Yaku, are you and Kai busy this afternoon? No?” Ushijima had looked at him, and Bokuto found his way off the couch and onto the table Kuroo was leaning on, “Why don’t you come over. Yeah. Yeah right now. I’m serious!”

“You are serious?” Ushijima had said.

“Drop dead. Y’know what, what if we all invite someone? It’ll be like a get together or something. You too Ushiwaka! It’s been too damn long, and I for one could go for a beer.”

And just like that, it was settled. So every third Saturday became the aptly named Bokurojima get together day. Then it’d become just the Bokuro get together, and despite their insistence otherwise, it had stayed that way. The ‘Bokuroshou get together’ just didn’t have the same ring to it.

Kuroo places the kettle onto the stove and starts grabbing boxes of instant coffee and chamomile tea from the cupboard. It’s currently the third Saturday of the month, and the turnout is pretty damn decent. Yaku and Kai can’t make it this time round- the trip from Miyagi proving way too expensive on their university budget- but Kuroo can’t complain, he’d already been to see them the week before to congratulate Kai on one of his art installations. 

Instead he knows he’ll be graced with a very different set of personalities. Ushijima and Kita are both already in the apartment; Kita preparing his grandmother’s famous dorayaki, while Ushijima cleans the dishes from the night before. Both had invited their own friends; Tendou, who’s somehow become a bit of a staple around the apartment complex, despite having his own damn apartment a few blocks away; and his roommate Aran, who actually uses his apartment, unlike Tendou. 

Other than the two of them it would only be Kuroo, Bokuto, and Daishou, but the inclusion of people other than his housemates makes the day feel special in its own way, and Kuroo appreciates that.

Hinata, the cheeky rascal, also appreciates it in his own way.

Hinata Shouyou, as half named by Bokuto and half named by Kuroo himself, is one of the weirdest birds Kuroo has ever met. He chalks it down to the fact that crows are inherently weird, their genius being contained in the body of some of the stupidest creatures on earth makes it hard for them to be anything other than weird. That said, saying Hinata is anything akin to a “genius” is perhaps the overstatement of the past fifteen billion years. Simply put, Hinata is a fucking idiot. There’s no way around it.

Kuroo can see how true this is as he watches the chubby bird attempt and fail to steal a sugar cube from a closed glass container, only to find an open container of salt and quickly regret the decision.

But perhaps stranger than Hinata himself, and even more so than the bright orange discoloration on the top of Hinata’s head, is the fact that Kenma _really_ likes his presence.

As if on cue the cat jumps onto the counter, knocking off a box of tea bags for good measure, then sits behind Hinata. Kenma nuzzles the orange tuft of feathers on top of Hinata’s head and meows, curling his body around the little bird. He then swipes at the box of instant coffee and topples that over too, just to be thorough.

Kuroo squints at the cat, “asshole.”

Kita chuckles softly from where he’s preparing the bean paste nearby, “he’s just a cat, Kuroo-san.”

“He’s a cat _and_ an asshole.”

“I was under the impression that you and Bokuto had taken up Kenma as your god,” Ushijima says deadpan, “is it not courteous to treat your gods with respect?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, “yeah well, not when God is literally my best friend of four years it’s not.” He picks Hinata up from where the poor bird is being put in a chokehold by Kenma, and pushes the cat off the counter with his forearm, “get off the counter buddy, you know the rules.”

Kenma meows in disdain, and Kuroo lets Hinata play on the counter for longer.

Ever since the bird had moved into their house- well, _crash landed_ really- both Kuroo and Bokuto had taken it upon themselves to take care of him. Hinata couldn’t fly, both his wings were in a really bad state and Bokuto had only really managed to make the damage worse by trying to drop kick a literal bird out of the air. Hinata, being an actual idiot, forgave Bokuto instantly. When he’d met Kenma the bird had flexed his ability to make bad decisions by approaching Kenma with what could only be described as a cheery disposition. 

Luckily for him, Kenma was already fed, and had better ideas as to what to do with his new bf. Birdfriend, that is. Not boyfriend. Although it did feel that way at times. 

Kuroo stopped stirring the tea in his hands. Was Hinata even a boy? How do you even check that sort of thing? Does it even matter??

“Why’d we start calling Hinata a he anyway?” Kuroo asks, turning to his guests.

“I suppose it was a split second decision, which had then stuck,” Ushijima said, drying his last cup.

Kuroo hums, “guess that makes sense. Is he one though?”

“Is he a what?”

“A he.”

Ushijima stares into the dirty dishes in the sink, deep in thought. Even Kita stops mixing his batter, waiting for a response.

“Does it really matter?” He says, finally.

Kuroo blinks. Well, it did didn’t it? Kuroo knows better than anyone the kind of euphoria one can experience being called the right pronouns, the right name, the right _everything_. Yeah, it’s kind of silly to extend that to a bird, but they don’t call him emotional for nothing.

“The way I see it,” Kita starts, continuing his mixing, “it matters more to some than others. Just ‘cause we don’t care ‘bout this sorta thing doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter to someone else, Ushijima-kun.”

“I suppose so,” Ushijima replies, “but it should not matter what pronouns we use for an animal in the first place. I would not care if you decide to use any other one for myself, and I am certain the bird would not be bothered either.”

Kita chuckles again, the sound is light and airy, but it carries something more with it. 

“That’s a very you thing to say, isn’t it?” Kita smiles, and the look in his eyes seems a bit sadder than is called for, “I think it’d be nice if someone decided to call me something different. I know ya already feel good about yourself the way you are Ushijima-kun, but some of us need that reassurance from others too.”

Kita realizes what he’d said too late, the information having already filed itself into Kuroo’s brain.

“I can do that,” he says, not giving Kita time to respond.

“Kuroo-san, ya don’t have to do that-”

“I’d like to, if you want me to, Kita-san.”

Kita closes his mouth and watches Kuroo for a second. Hinata has found his way onto Kuroo’s sleeve, and when Kuroo looks down he can see that Kenma had migrated towards the other two.

He smiles again, and turns his head towards Kuroo, “I think I would, Kuroo-san.”

It almost looks like Kenma’s supporting Kita, with the way he’s purring against the neighbor’s leg. Kuroo likes to think he’s being supportive too, in the way he was supported back in highschool.

———

One or two 500mg tablets of paracetamol up to four times in 24 hours. 

Aran has this formula memorized to the letter. He has to, on days like these. 

It’s the third Saturday of the month and he has been dreading it from the second he woke up three nights ago. 

_”Wakatoshi and his old roommates are having a get together again this Saturday, you should totally come with! Heard that old fart Kita’s gonna be there too y’know, so you have someone to be a great old grandpa and complain about the humidity with! C’mon Ojiro-kun, you gotta!!”_

He rubs his skull with both his hands. Would it hurt to have one more tablet already? Probably. Kita wouldn’t appreciate him forsaking his health like that, even if the thrumming pain in his head feels like it’d be a better cause for his early death than an extra tablet of painkillers.

Well, technically the cause of death would be his roommate and her new friends, but that’s not the kind of thing you want on an autopsy report.

If there’s one way to describe Bokuto Koutarou, it’s _loud_. He’s so freaking loud. The man could fell cities with just his voice, and you’d _still_ hear it three countries over. Daishou Suguru is _annoying_. It doesn’t take Aran more than three seconds to realize that he should keep his wallet closer than usual, and his personal details on an even stronger lockdown. Terushima Yuuji is _a living hazard_. From his reckless placement of piercings to the way he moves, bumping into every living and non-living creature around, it’s a wonder he’s managed to live so far without breaking every single bone in his and everyone else’s body. Tendou Satori however? 

Tendou is worse than the three of them combined.

Well, technically that’s an overstatement. Tendou is just as bad as the other three, but it’s the sheer amount of time that Aran has spent with the person that makes her that much worse. Aran has seen most of Tendou’s worst habits; he’s waded through jump volumes, picked up sweaty bras with sweatier breast forms and tracksuit bottoms, had to listen to the opening to Lucky Star be belted at 3 am, and discover some of the most heinous “meals” known to mankind. None of these can compare however, to Tendou’s lovesickness.

It was okay at first, Tendou and Aran would talk about the past sometimes over a beer and a strawberry milkshake or two; the former refusing to drink unless it’s a particularly good occasion (It’s a fact that Aran appreciates, if the stories he’s heard are anything to go by). Aran would give an anecdote about his crushes from his days in Inarizaki, and Tendou would give one about her days in Shiratorizawa. It was light and fun, and Aran couldn’t help but pry just a little to learn more about Tendou’s highschool sweetheart.

He learned that she fell for him in her first year. He learned that she couldn’t confess to him when they graduated. He learned that she had to watch him go to university, that she worked hard to get into the same one only to drop out before her second semester. He learned that she had to watch him fall in love by the end of his first year.

He learned that her sweetheart’s lover was everything she is not; quiet, respectful, organized. Dull, simple, gray. _”He’s perfect for him Ojiro-kun. I could never be that,”_ she’d said, _“I still love him Ojiro-kun, I don’t know what to do,”_ she’d said, _”his name is Kita, Ojiro-kun.”_

And that’s when the headache became a migraine.

Kita. Kita Shinsuke. Aran’s best friend from highschool.

“Hey, Aran, are you even listening?!” Bokuto shouts, taking Aran from one migraine to the next.

“No,” he says truthfully.

“Damn, and I thought you were meant to be the respectful one,” says Daishou, smirking that annoying smirk of his.

Terushima giggles and rolls his tongue piercing around his mouth, a nervous habit. “Is it really alright for me to just come in here without any warning?” he says, swaying from side to side, rubbing the short side of his undercut.

“Yeah bro!” Bokuto says, fumbling with his fanny pack, “It’s my house and I decide the rules!” 

“It’s _our_ house, and we’re only renting it from your moms,” Daishou says, rolling his eyes.

“Potayto potahto!” 

Aran just sighs and watches Bokuto turn the key to his apartment. The moment he enters he’s hit with the smell of heaven itself and for a second he can forget every one of his worries. Oh grandma Kita, if only you could be everyone’s grandmother, then Aran could have your dorayaki every day. He’d briefly flirted with the idea of marrying Kita purely to experience this joy, but quickly changed his mind when he’d realized how unfair that’d be to Kita themself.

And speak of the devil, Aran finds himself in Kita’s warm embrace not even seconds after he’d entered the (surprisingly) tidy apartment. Both Terushima and Tendou are pulled into similar greetings; Kuroo squeezing the living daylights out of Terushima, while Ushijima easily lays a hand on Tendou’s shoulder; a gesture weighing as much as any hug to those who understand Ushijima well.

The group are all herded into the living room, and the four idiots (now five, and… a quarter? Aran knew about the crow from before but it’s still a bit strange seeing it in action) start easy conversation. Aran takes his place on the edge of the couch right next to Kita. Beside them sits Ushijima, and both Bokuto and Kuroo, who’ve managed to make a game of tetris out of fitting both of them into the small space left behind. Daishou and Terushima take opposite seats, both on extra seats brought in from the other rooms. Tendou has disappeared to God knows where, and the cat has taken Tendou’s seat on the armchair as a result.

Not that Aran thinks she’d sit on it, but the thought counts.

Kuroo manhandles himself off of his boyfriend and brings in the drinks. Aran gratefully grabs a cup of chamomile. Various beers and cups of coffee are passed around, and by the time Tendou returns everyone’s already managed to settle down. Even the cat and the crow have snuggled in against one another peacefully, with the crow cawing happily to interject with his own addition to the conversation every now and again.

Tendou drops a giant plastic box full of markers onto the floor with a clang, and her smile only doubles in size. 

“What’s with the arts and crafts?” Terushima asks, beer can to his lips.

“This, my dear friend, is the beginning of a major religious advertising scheme!” Tendou responds, chuckling. 

Bokuto’s eyes start to sparkle, “you’re going to make our posters for us!?” 

“Of course~!” Tendou sing-songs, dropping herself to the ground and laying a piece of A3 paper flat on the floor, “I, miracle worker Tendou Satori, would do nothing less for my dearest Kou-kun.”

Daishou sighs, “is this about that fucking cat religion again?”

Kuroo gasps, “HEY! Kenma’s _right there_ asshole!”

Daishou rolls his eyes and slumps into his seat, taking a long swig from his beer.

Terushima laughs, “Of course you’d want the dead artist to make your religious propaganda for you.” 

Tendou chokes on her own spit, “for the _last time_ I didn’t drop dead, I dropped out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, if you even sleep that is,” Terushima giggles, playing with his piercings- his nose ring this time, “I dunno ‘Shou, I honestly think it’s kinda cool. Y’know, this whole thing they’re doing. It’s got a bit of a ring to it, doesn't it? You go into a party all ‘guess who started a fucking cult!’ and you’re instantly a primadonna! Man the guys have gotta love that shit right??”

Aran notices the perk in Daishou’s demeanor almost instantly. There’s something different about the way he looks at Terushima just then. He licks his lips, bites them twice, and thinks better of whatever it he’s thinking of saying. He slumps instead, loosely holding his can over the armrest. The cat moves off its throne and walks towards him, batting the can with its little paws. Daishou looks at it with something almost like hope in his eyes, and pets the cat’s head lightly. There’s so much want in those eyes; not the kind you find in parties or hormonal teenagers, but the kind you see in princess movies, the kind you read about in novels. There’s a wish in there somewhere, and the knowledge of that makes Aran swallow a gulp of tea, his head starting to hurt a bit more.

“SEE, someone agrees with me!” Bokuto shouts, smiling bright as the sun.

“What do _you_ think, Wakatoshi?” Tendou asks.

Aran notices the hope in her eyes almost instantly. He checks his watch, is it still too early for another tablet..?

Ushijima looks around, “I think we require more drinks. We have run out of beer.”

“Huh,” Kuroo says, from where he’s sitting on Bokuto’s lap, playing with his lover’s hair, “yo Daishou, Terushima, could y’all go grab us a few more from the conbini round the corner?”

“Hahhh?” Daishou says, scrunching his nose, “why me huh? Huh??”

Kuroo and him share a look. Something is said in those two seconds of silence and it makes Daishou stand up. He bonks Terushima over the head lightly and whispers something to him. Terushima, visibly surprised, scrambles to follow and the two leave in a flurry of jackets, scarves, and goodbyes.

The cat watches them throughout their exit, never once moving from its spot next to Daishou’s chair. Aran watches them in turn, and for the first time in his life he wonders what could possibly be going through a cat’s mind.

———

There are nights when everything in your life could change forever.

Ushijima has always known this.

From the night their father left. From the night they’d left their old school. From the night they’d left their old home. From the night they’d left their best friend. There are nights when you have to leave things behind, and live in the present.

But one thing Ushijima didn’t yet know, is that there are nights when everything in your life could change for the better.

It was a calm Saturday evening, a fourth Saturday, right after both their old roommates final exams. Bokuto and Kuroo had gone out for the evening. The three of them had still been living together at that time, and Daishou was nothing more than a man Ushijima had not yet known, but who Ushijima knew had invited their roommates out for a celebration party. As such Ushijima was left behind once more, this time to take care of Kuroo’s pet cat. All while nursing the inescapable void in their soul.

They were sitting out on the balcony, and although their plants were thriving, their heart was fit to wilt. The cat was with them, curled up on the side of the brick railing, fur rustling in the night air. 

“Do you ever feel lonely?”, Ushijima had said, voice leaving trails of vapour in the night air. 

The cat said nothing, as would be expected. Ushijima isn’t sure what had prompted them to speak then, but they had done so despite all logic. As the kind of person who always finishes what they begin, they’d felt obligated to keep going.

“Sometimes… It feels as though I have been placed in life to fill in a gap. As though I am not meant to be here for my own purpose. I am here until I am not, and when those around me leave they do not feel remorse.” Ushijima had breathed out, warming their face in their hands.

The cat had looked at them, not making any move to change its position, but it’s attentiveness struck Ushijima as a sign to keep going, so they did.

“I think, I tend to believe that I do not deserve love. That I cannot truly appreciate it, with the way I am today.”

At that the cat had meowed, and Ushijima’s eyes widened a bit.

“You would not understand, you are but a cat. You are loved despite your lack of outward affection. That is not the case for humans.”

Another meow, this time its tail had begun to swish too.

Ushijima swallowed, “I guess we are not so different, you and I,” they’d looked up at the heavens, at the stars up above. They’d thought of someone they had once known, someone they still _knew_.

They thought of that person’s love being directed towards them. They thought of showing that love back in their own way. They thought and it felt selfish. They thought and it felt like they were doing something wrong. They thought, and felt... nice.

Now Ushijima had always been religious. It’s not something they talk about, nor something they outwardly show, but in their heart they are. Ushijima believes in gods, they believe in miracles, they believe in fate. They’ve prayed and wished, and they’ve worked hard to back it all up.

Maybe it’s for that reason, looking up at the cold endless night sky- this never ending mass of stoicism and lack of emotion, whose likeness has inspired poets and lovers alike, whose existence is a sign of love itself- that Ushijima made another wish, another prayer. 

For the first time in their life, Ushijima Wakatoshi had made an entirely selfish wish.

They’d closed their eyes, and looked to the heavens. 

“I have asked for many things, I am aware. It is true that I am being selfish with what I am about to say, but it is something I think that I would not be able to live without. I would like someone who can understand me. I would like someone who would not think me strange for reciprocating emotion in my own way. If it is not too much to pray for, God, I…”

They’d faltered, dropped their eyes down to the cat laying beside them, its gaze was gentle and steady. They took a deep breath.

“I would like someone to love.”

The world was quiet. The night continued to move on. Ushijima had returned inside, heart heavy, the cat in their arms. They’d said their piece, and there was no way to know whether it would be heard. All they could do was hope.

Little did they know, that just a balcony away their prayer had been heard.

It was a calm Saturday evening when Kita Shinsuke had fallen in love.

———

Tendou is a fool. She knows this well.

Any regular human being would have given up by now, as they watched their lover caress the love of their life gently, affection apparent in their eyes. 

Tendou hadn’t even known that Ushijima could love like that. She’d asked and pried and tried for many years, but they just would not budge. It hurts a little, knowing that the reason she could never find out was probably more a result of her own shortcomings than Ushijima’s inability to love. For they _can_ love, it’s obvious from the way Kita and them speak together, the way they only twine their pinkies, the way they smile so easily for one another…

Tendou Satori is a fool. She glances at the happy couple from the corner of her eyes again, and the marker in her hand glides a little too far off the mark.

She moves to swear, to adjust the eyes on her poster so it doesn’t look like a complete mess, when she honest to God hears a _blood curdling scream._

“What the fuck was THAT?!” Bokuto shouts, rightfully so.

“I don’t know, but we need to find out,” Kuroo responds, already standing up to go.

“We need someone to stay behind, in case anything happens,” Kita says, and he’s right. It hurts Tendou’s heart just a little when Ushijima agrees, but Tendou does too.

“I’ll stay,” she says.

Something almost like worry flashes through Ushijima’s eyes, “are you certain?”

“We can stay with ya, Tendou-san,” Kita says, and strangely enough there’s worry in _his_ eyes too. Something about that thought makes something strange happen in Tendou’s chest, but she ignores it.

“Nothing could hurt me miracle boy!” she smiles, and weirdly enough it kind of does reach her eyes, “you go out there and be heroes, I’ll keep the fort steady.”

“Thanks Tendou, we’ll be back soon,” Kuroo says, already out the door.

The rest follow suit in varying states of dress. It’s Aran who stays behind when everyone’s gone, looking back at Tendou with a look she knows like the back of her hand.

“I’ll be _fine_, Aran-kun, really. I’m not some maiden in need of rescuing just because I’m a girl today, you know.”

“I know that. Just… take care of yourself,” Aran points to his temple then, “and don’t overwork yourself up here.”

Tendou chuckles, “that’s rich, coming from you.”

Aran only rolls his eyes and turns to leave, a knowing glance thrown behind his shoulders.

Tendou knows that there are nights when you’re left behind. Like when her siblings decided she was too weird to sit with them anymore. Like when her classmates decided she was too scary to treat nicely anymore. Like when her best friend had left her. Like when her emotions had decided to hightail it and run away.

She needs to learn to just let it happen, to give up and let the world leave her behind. To give up on her dreams and be more realistic. To just be, for the sake of being.

But Tendou Satori is a fool.

And as the little kitty and her friend decide to use her lap as a bed, she can’t help but think about how much it would hurt to see them go if she could feel anything at all.

———

It’s cold outside. It could kinda be romantic like this; two guys walking side by side under the starlit sky. It could be something out of a love poem.

But Terushima Yuuji is not a love kinda guy.

He’s a ‘get pissed at a party and make out with the nearest five people at once’ kinda guy. A ‘have like four friends on speed dial for a good time but never have it mean anything more than that’ kinda guy. A ‘I can’t think of my life in five years time and if you so much as ask me I will drown you out forever and NO dad I don’t KNOW about marriage yet, okay??’ kinda guy.

That’s why meeting Daishou was like a shock to every one of his systems.

Bringing it back to his first year in university, Terushima had made a name for himself as a regular to the cafe situated at the building across from his own apartment. A regular in the sense that his order (a latte with three shots of caramel and chocolate chips) was memorized by every employee in that establishment, and his number was memorized by both half the regulars _and_ all the employees.

All but one.

You see the moment Terushima had seen Daishou, he knew it was over for him. His life ended that ass o’clock in the morning. He’d seen him through the glass, slumped against the counter, looking like the most handsome piece of shit Terushima had ever seen, and he _knew_ he would never be going to that cafe again.

That was supposed to be the end of it.

Stolen glances, daydreams, actual dreams. Those were all things Terushima could live with.

And then the party happened.

It was a pretty damn calm Saturday evening, perfect weather for a houseparty. Not only that, but it was the weekend right after finals and everyone knew that that was the prime time to get shitfaced. So Terushima offered his uncle's house; a bigass mansion on the outskirts of town, basically abandoned save Terushima using it for his own get togethers.

Terushima, poor blind naive Terushima, had made the party open invite. He’d called his friends, he’d called their friends, he’d sent out invites to anyone and everyone without a criminal record that said ‘murder’ or something and he’d invited them thoroughly.

That’s why he should’ve seen it coming when he’d seen him. That, and the fact that Daishou was running straight towards him at the time.

Terushima thinks about how close Daishou’s face was to his that night and his face grows warm.

They’re both standing in the queue in the conbini, a couple beers and a cider in hand. The cider was for Daishou of course; he preferred his liquor sweet. 

Terushima couldn’t stop thinking about how it’d taste like off his lips.

“You always buy cherry,” Terushima says, more as a way to start a conversation than anything.

Daishou shrugs and hands the cashier a note, “what can I say, I like cherry.”

Terushima blows hot air into his hands and watches Daishou’s lips as he thanks the cashier, heart heavy. They walk out in silence, close enough to feel the others’ heat but not enough to touch. Terushima rolls his piercing in his mouth and fiddles with one of his helixes. “I’m not a big fan myself. Pineapple’s where it’s at.”

Daishou stops and turns around only a few steps away from the conbini, an affronted look on his face. Even in the ugly electric white lighting, it’s kinda hot. Terushima swallows and tries to calm his heart, but all he can think about is how cold it is, how lonely it is, how easy it would be to close the distance between them. 

“Well congratulations on having the world's worst taste, asshole,” Daishou says, a playful scowl on his face, “cherry’s so good I use it in everything. Drinks, food, shampoo, even my fucking lip balm.”

Terushima licks his lips, tongue rolling over his snake bites, “why’re you so obsessed with cherry.”

“It’s a good fucking flavour.”

“Really?”

“What the fuck else do you want me to say? Yeah, really.”

Terushima bites his lip. He looks Daishou in the eye, and he swears he sees him jump a little.

“Convince me then.”

“W-what?”

“Convince me that it’s a good flavour.”

“Fine, I’ll give you some of my cider when we get back-”

“_No._” Terushima takes a step closer, and Daishou’s eyes widen. They’re only a step away now, “prove it to me now.”

Daishou takes a deep breath, “okay, I’ll grab it now and you can-”

“That’ll take too long, ‘Shou,” Terushima drops his voice, taking that last step forward, hoping he can convey the message, “I want you to convince me now.”

The bag drops from Daishou’s hand, but the two of them don’t hear the glass breaking. 

All they can hear is their heartbeats, and the rhythm of their breathing against each other’s lips.

Terushima isn’t a religious man, but he thinks that if a man like Daishou could convince him to like cherries, then maybe there really is a God out there.

———

Daishou has a list.

For a second he forgets he does, hand firmly rooted in Terushima’s. All he can think about is telling the others, being smug with Kuroo, high fiving Bokuto, the whole damn deal.

Instead he comes home and crosses #17 off the list.

_Because there are two wild fucking foxes in the middle of his mother fucking living room._

He levels Bokuto with a pained stare, and the man has the _audacity_ to shrug and laugh awkwardly.

So Daishou does what he does best; he files away the situation and takes Terushima into his room. And when he sleeps later that night he dreams of cherries, lip piercings, and two foxes with the paws of the devil.


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If,” she pipes up, voice full of fear, “if Kenma-kun is God, then… then those two are the _devil._”
> 
> ———
> 
> Earth shattering revelations are had, but none are without a price to be paid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a few months of radio silence, the fourth installment of this fic!
> 
> This chapter goes out to drubdrub, who was maybe the only person in the world who actively begged me to finish it. I lov u dude 💕
> 
> Anyway this chapter is a doozy (like almost as long as the rest of the fic combined...) but I had a lot of fun playing with it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Kita Shinsuke is a simple man.

He has a simple apartment, simple hobbies, and a simple boyfriend.

“Daishou, where’d Kita-san go?” 

“They’re out on the balcony with the twins, Bo.”

Kita’s heart races a bit. No one’s ever called him that openly before. Called _them_ that openly before. Not even Ushijima. Not even Aran.

Kita Shinsuke is not a simple man. In fact, they’re not a man at all. They still have a simple apartment, they still have simple hobbies, and their boyfriend is still simple too… Well, that is to say their _partner_ is still simple, for Ushijima Wakatoshi is not a man either.

It took a long time for Kita to accept this about themself, meanwhile Ushijima has always embraced the fact that he’s agender. He’s always been confident in himself, never minding how people view him if only for the fact that he knows who he is for himself. You could call Ushijima anything and he would not budge, his self worth is defined only by himself.

But Kita isn’t Ushijima. They still struggle to call themself the right words, to see themself the right way. They struggle to get others to do so too; too polite to speak out when it comes to something so personal.

“Oh why are they out there? Is it important?” Bokuto asks from inside.

Kita’s heart races again. It’s worth it when they do.

Daishou shrugs audibly, “dunno, don’t think so though.”

Shortly after that, the whirlwind that is Kita’s neighbor comes crashing into the balcony. Thankfully they’d all relocated Ushijima’s plants when he moved into Kita’s apartment, otherwise Bokuto’s entrance would’ve resulted in quite a few destroyed pots. That would give them all a particularly upset Ushijima on their hands, and that’s not something anyone needs to see.

“Bokuto-san,” Kita says, petting one of the Miya’s soft plush fur. This one must be Osamu, judging by the relatively calm demeanor of the fox in comparison to its twin. The fox that Kita guesses must be Atsumu is on the floor batting at Kenma’s tail, the cat sleeping soundly on the railing while its crow friend aggravates a literal fox. 

It’s kind of admirable, the lengths Hinata will go through to interact with its natural predators.

“Kuroo was telling me that you haven’t decided if Hinata is a boy or not,” Bokuto says, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the balcony, “I was thinking we should, especially now that we have these two kids to take care of!” he pets Atsumu’s head, and the fox shakes him off. He doesn’t even manage to get near Osamu before it bares its teeth at him.

Kita chuckles. For some reason both the twins have taken a liking to him and Aran.

It was a strange experience, going from thinking that there’s a murderer on the loose right below their apartment complex only to find two little foxes caught in the space between the metal gate, injured and scared. At first Kuroo had tried to get them out himself, but was quickly swatted away by the then especially aggressive Atsumu. It took the combined efforts of both Aran and Ushijima to eventually get the foxes out, and once they had it was Kita who’d offered them food and water. Perhaps it’s for this reason exactly that Kita was appointed their guardian until the group could find a shelter to take them in.

One thing led to another, and the discovery that the twins were originally kept as pets and could not be released into the wild resulted in the Kita-Ushijima household practically adopting the foxes. Aran had offered to keep them at his own apartment, but quickly thought better of it when he remembered that he was unfortunate enough to live with one Tendou Satori, and keeping them with a pair of actual domesticated foxes was nothing less than a recipe for disaster.

“I s’pose it’d make sense to do so,” Kita says, a small lazy smile on their face, “shall we do that now then?”

Bokuto perks up instantly, “yeah!! I was actually thinking you should have the honors, Kita-san!”

Kita hums, they’re more than used to Bokuto’s whims at this point, but it still surprised them a little.

“How come?”

“It’s just-” Bokuto starts to gesture wildly with his arms, ”you’re like the smartest person in this whole apartment, _and_ you’ve got all that weird mystic stuff going on with you too, so! Not to mention the kids _love_ you!”

“I see,” Kita chuckles, they look around at the furry occupants of the balcony and hum again, “I think that… All of them are nonbinary.”

“Uwoahhh!!” Bokuto all but hoots, “all of them??”

A warm smile finds its way onto Kita’s face, Bokuto always knows what to say to make the people around him at their best; it’s a fact Kita knows. They think about it for a second; they think about Kuroo, Bokuto and Aran, who earned their right to manhood. They think about Tendou, who decided that they’d rather be anything and everything whenever they like. They think about Ushijima, and his certainty in the fact that he is nothing at all.

“I think… Kenma is, definitely. Atsumu is genderfluid. Ah, but then Osamu has to be agender,” Kita says, the beating of their heart never once causing their words to falter.

“What about Hinata?” Bokuto says, eyes wide and glowing with starlight.

“He’s a trans boy,” Kita says with a smile.

There are things in the world that glow and shine without human interference; fireflies, stars, volcanoes, the sun… But of all the things that have ever glowed in the world, none could have ever held a candle to the look on Bokuto’s face in that one moment.

He turns his face towards Hinata, the crow staring him right back in the eyes, and then he smiles.

“You and me both, little buddy!” 

Bokuto is anything but a simple man, but the simple joy he experiences is one Kita understands deeply. It’s for this reason that the two of them sit out at that balcony, joined by their feathered and furred companions, as well as a lovestruck Daishou later on.

It’s a good way to live, Kita thinks.

Kuroo’s voice rings across the apartment, the sound of the door opening echoing his excitement, “You guys won’t be able to guess what I’ve found!”

A small smile makes its way onto Kita’s face. They don’t know what to expect from tonight just yet, but they know it’ll be interesting.

———

Hoshiumi hates his fucking apartment.

It’s tiny, it’s filthy, it’s absolutely despicable in every single way. He’s been living there with the money he’s barely managed to scrape by from his shitty goddamn job at the theatre, eating stale popcorn and long forgotten movie snacks for so long he’s forgotten the taste of real food. There is nothing in the world that he wants more than to escape that hell hole and find a _real_ house.

With that said; Hoshiumi hates his coworker's apartment nearly just as much.

That’s not to say Kuroo’s apartment is _bad_ in any way. It’s spacious, clean, he gets to interact with decent people and even chip into buying food rather than doing it all himself. No, it’s not the apartment itself that he hates; it’s the fact that there’s a _literal fucking zoo_ in there.

“Kuroo, I’m not going to live with a literal fucking zoo outside my door,” he spits out, eyes locked with his coworker.

“Aw c’mon dude they’re all vaccinated, _and_ domesti-” Kuroo is interrupted by the sound of that one dude from the coffeeshop Hoshiumi likes _(Daishou? Daiki? Something like that.)_ being bitten by Kuroo’s pet cat, “-mostly domesticated.”

Hoshiumi peels his gaze away from Kuroo to level the cat- which didn’t even _deserve_ to be named- an even more venomous glare. It says enough about that furry abomination that in a room full of apex predators and _Bokuto,_ it was the only one to be called out for being undomesticated. Hoshiumi could live with rats in the walls and snakes in the pipeline but that cat had to be the absolute most he could possibly handle, and by the way it was staring right back at him the feeling seemed mutual.

“If what you’ve told me about your current apartment is anything to go by, I’m sure you can handle a few pets right? Anything’s gotta be better than the half crumbled ceiling and opera singing ghosts.”

Hoshiumi’s face contorts into the deepest version of disdain his baby face could possibly pull.

Kuroo sighs, “hey it’s your choice. We don’t need the rent that bad and if you’re really more comfortable living back at your place that’s perfectly cool, dude.”

The two-toned terror struts its way towards Hoshiumi, and before he could even open his mouth to say anything he’s got a face full of paw, and claws that are _way_ too sharp to be normal.

“GAH-! FUCK!” He pushes Kuroo’s cat out of his face, defending his cheek with his other hand, “that’s _it_, I can't do this anymore! The deals-“

Ping!

Kuroo blinks at Hoshiumi’s phone, his Hunter X Hunter background is covered by the big angry words of the notification on screen.

“Beg the landlord to pull the snakes out of the toilet,” Kuroo reads out loud, raising an eyebrow to Hoshiumi, “again.”

Turns out renting student-owned apartments is a quicker process than Hoshiumi originally thought it’d be.

———

There are many things one can learn from their parents. How to do housework, how to do simple addition, how to make the family’s special dorayaki, how to find the strangest possible tenants to rent your rooms out to… the list goes on.

Yachi Hitoka’s mother specifically had taught her many things, from business sense to design techniques. But more than any of those things, her mother's voice rings clearest on one all-important lesson:_ “Hitoka baby, no matter what happens from here on out, remember this: Assert yourself. That’s the first rule of all! If you find yourself in a room full of idiots you have to learn to establish yourself as the one in control. It's the only way to get anywhere in life.” _

It is, of course, not bad advice. Yachi Madoka is a woman who has dealt with droves of idiots every day of her slowly lengthening existence, so her experience made her the perfect teacher when it came to dealing with most of the people the younger Yachi would meet in her life. But nothing, and she means _nothing_ her mother has ever said, could’ve ever prepared her for the predicament she’s in right now 

Yachi watches the scene unfold, quickly flipping through her mental reservoir of every single one of the lessons her mother ever taught her, but nothing seems to be of any use to her. Her rate quickens and her eyes start to water. She stares at the ceiling, imagining herself as the lowly background character of a badly written Jane Austin ripoff, and wonders where in the world she could’ve possibly gone wrong?

The answer to that is probably five hours earlier, when she walked in on her coworker asking her other coworker to pet-sit for him. 

Yachi had said “oh, you’re going to be pet-sitting Hoshiumi-san? I used to do that back in middle school to get extra pocket money,” then, she’d realized that the statement was a little misleading, and instantly backpedaled. “Ah, but that’s not to say I was poor or anything!! I mean it was just me and my mother but we weren’t like, not well off,” _then_ she realized that statement painted a pretty shitty picture of her. She couldn’t let her coworkers think she was- God forbid- a _capitalist_ or something, so she stumbled over herself to try and fix the situation, “O-of course if I _was_ poor there’d be nothing wrong with that either!” 

Oh God, but that sounded like she was specifically targeting her coworker and calling him poor, like some sort of pretentious princess looking down on her peasants. The very thought of being so disrespectful towards a university student when she was still taking her own final highschool exams made her blood run cold, so she hurried to rectify the statement... 

“B-but I’m not implying _you’re_ poor Hoshiumi-san, j-just that if you w-w-were then th-that’d- it’d-” 

...Only to realize she’d made it a hundred times worse.

So Yachi did what her mother had always taught her to do, and she _asserted herself._

“I’M SO SORRY, PLEASE IF THERE’S ANYTHING I COULD DO TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU I WILL. I’LL CLEAN ALL OF THE WINDOWS OF THE THEATRE WHILE BUNGEE JUMPING. I’LL RECITE THE ENTIRETY OF SHAKESPEARE’S WRITTEN WORKS IN A SHARK TANK. I’LL GIVE YOU MY KIDNEY-”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Hoshiumi said, bird-like, tired eyes boring holes into Yachi’s frail skull, “anything?”

“Y-yes,” she squeaked back, feeling her back press against both a metaphorical and (comically well placed) physical corner.

Of course, if she’d known that those would be her last words, she would’ve at least _tried_ to make them sound a little more dignified than they were. Sadly, time is a cruel mistress who takes every one of your decisions to heart, no matter how stupid or spineless. This is a truth Yachi knows better than any other, from the day she handed in an incomplete art assignment in preschool because she just didn’t feel like it to the night she decided to get absolutely shitfaced and dumpster dive with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, every one of her bad decisions is accounted for. 

And Yachi, being highly a religious woman (less out of real belief and more out of a necessity to keep her heart from bouncing straight out of her throat like one of those infinite bouncy balls you get from gacha machines), already knows that this is one of those decisions that changes your life, and perhaps even your afterlife, forever.

It’s on a perfect third Friday of the month, as she watches a cat deliver a bite twenty times worse than any shark attack, that Yachi begins to write her will.

———

Having Hoshiumi rent the spare room that was left behind following Bokuto’s big move into Kuroo’s room turned out to be a pretty decent plan when everything went down to it.

He was good at doing his own chores, and only rarely complained unlike Daishou. He often hung out with the other tenants, and since he knew Kuroo as well as Tendou (who was basically another tenant at this point) from work, he had no trouble at all dealing with all their quirks. He even had a strangely good friendship with _Ushijima_ of all people, _and_ he knew how to stitch “home sweet home” decorations for the apartment! Certainly Hoshiumi would’ve been the perfect tenant for the Bokuro household, if it wasn’t for one teeny tiny major catastrophically huge problem.

“HINATA SHOUYOU, GET _OFF_ ME!!”

The animals in the house seemed to absolutely despise him.

The second Hinata had laid eyes on Hoshiumi, it was what was probably hate at first sight. Both he and Kenma never once left Hoshiumi’s side, constantly playing in his hair, or stealing his snacks or shoes or whatever. Honestly? Kuroo thought it was the funniest thing in the world. But even Bokuto’s cutest jokes could get old.

(They couldn’t actually, but Kuroo had to give Hoshiumi some benefit of the doubt.)

That is why, on the third Friday of the month Hoshiumi had moved in, the day before the next Bokuro get together, Kuroo made a decision. In the hope that it would strengthen his cat's relationship with his housemate, he appointed Hoshiumi as the pet-sitter for the day, alongside a seemingly half-dead Yachi Hitoka. Seriously, she looks like a monk or something. Like, achieved Nirvana levels of half-dead. Not even in the religious sense but in the ‘oh my god Nirvana the band is playing at this party but I’m like, high as shit on all this caprisun and also probably teen spirit’ sense. 

_Shit, is she even Breathing?_

“Yacchan? Are you alive?”

Yachi kind of shakes a little, not really in a yes or no motion just more like how a POP Vinyl figure shakes when you touch it. It’s kind of creepy, but Kuroo’s a bit too busy patching up his other coworker to worry about the state of Yachi’s whole existence at the moment. 

He wraps the bandages around Hoshiumi’s arm one last time, furrowing his brows at the scratches and bite marks on the other arm. Kenma doesn’t usually attack people (much) and he definitely doesn’t bite people very hard (unless he feels like it), but for some reason Hoshiumi just brings that side out of the damn cat. Not to mention what Hinata’s doing with the kid’s _hair_. like damn, Kuroo really did think it couldn’t get worse than what Hoshiumi had going on before this. (The irony of Kuroo of all people calling out any hairstyle is lost on Kuroo, though he admits that Kenma had done worse to his own bed hair than any other human or pillow could.)

He sighs, and cuts the last piece of bandage, patting Hoshiumi’s arm like it’s a pile of freshly folded laundry.

“If you two were struggling so much why didn’t you call me?”

“Hinata stole my phone.”

“Then just use Yacchan’s..?” both Kuroo and the extremely grumpy Hoshiumi turn to Yachi.

She blushes and squeaks, finally out of whatever reverie she was just in, “I… um… a fox ate mine.”

“A fox did _WHAT_?!”

———

Though Tendou may be a fool, at least they weren’t the one who had their phone _eaten_. By a Miya at that. Tendou may be a fool but there will always be people twice and three times more foolish than them out there.

“Ah, Tendou-san. Sorry for the intrusion, I was expectin’ to find Kuroo and Hoshiumi here.”

Tendou’s heart rate quickens. Okay so that last statement wasn’t entirely true. Maybe. Probably not.

“Kita-kun! What brings you to this not so humble abode?” Tendou says, voice cheery as always despite the fact that they could feel the sweat forming at the back of their neck.

“I was just comin’ in to check on the twins,” Kita says, their smile gentle but full of affection for the little monsters they’d adopted, “was told they’d be taken care of while I checked on my granma for the day. Where are theyanyway?”

“About that…” 

Tendou rubs the back of their head, unsure how to break the news to Kita. The twins, Hoshiumi, Yachi, Kuroo, and strangely enough even Hinata and Kenma are all probably squeezed together in Kuroo’s shitty old beetle car by now, en route to some vet’s office or hospital or another. 

“Hey, Tendou? I need a favour,” Kuroo had called in saying, and Tendou, always the one to abuse any morsel of power they’re given replied with the cheekiest smile they could muster.

“Oho? Well then, how can I help your meowjesty?”

Turns out, following the initial cat-and-bird attack on Hoshiumi, and the subsequent search for Yachi’s phone, a really complicated and particularly hilarious chain of events transpired. It was something straight out of a Mr. Bean film, and involved three screwdrivers, a box of colored markers, five or so houseplants and a hit-and-run from a pair of canines. To say the least Tendou turned blue holding back laughter as they listened to Kuroo recall the tale, voice laboured as he ran around with his phone to his ear, trying to capture a rogue crow mid-retelling. 

The entire story truly put the ‘dairy’ in ‘legendary’. That is to say, Tendou can still smell the stench of stale yogurt fuming from the carpeting. 

“Seriously you three need to make up RIGHT NOW while I figure out which Miya ate Yachi’s phone. This is NOT optional,” Kuroo had shouted into the receiver, to which Tendou responded with a cackle and a promise to house-sit until Daishou returned, the situation deescalated, or Bokuto started a fire somewhere. 

(Hopefully it won’t be all three at once like the last time.)

Of course, for how direly Tendou wanted to recount the whole tale, their childhood sweetheart’s lover was probably _not_ the person Tendou really wanted to recount it to. 

So rather than get into theatrics Tendou cleared their throat awkwardly, “they got into… trouble. But Kuroo is with them so hopefully they’ll be fine.”

“I see,” Kita responds, humming with a little bit of worry in the set of their eyebrows, “I s’pose there’s nothin’ left to do but leave our trust in Kuroo then.”

Tendou chuckles awkwardly, unsure of how good of a plan that would be considering the amount of devastatingly stupid events that seem to happen under Kuroo’s jurisdiction. 

“Let's pray we don’t need to send an ambulance for the Kuroo-ambulance then.”

Kita giggles, and it sounds like one of those heavenly glitter sound effects you get in anime.

“It’s strange,” Kita says, and their voice is sad, even a little… disappointed, “for as much as Ushijima-kun loves ya we don’t tend to talk much, do we?” 

Tendou swallows, feeling their throat constrict uncomfortably with the action. Ushijima’s love is a difficult nut to crack. They know that Ushijima can love, for Ushijima loves many things. They love volleyball, their parents, their team… and Tendou, too. Just not in the way Tendou wanted them to love them.

“We don’t,” they agree, for lack of anything better.

The sudden quiet doesn’t unnerve Kita, instead it emboldens them. They walk up to the kitchen and start to rummage through cupboards as though the house is their own, which honestly may as well be true. This apartment feels like home to so many people, that if Tendou found a burglar rummaging through the Bokuro household’s jewelry drawer they’d think the criminal was just another friend. (Well, framing it hypothetically implied them and Daishou’s first meeting was anything but abnormal)

Kita brings out some matching mugs (a cat and owl, thematically) and grabs the near-empty box of chamomile tea before turning to Tendou. They turn to look through the fridge, which is in a state of absolute destruction as a courtesy of some animal or another (namely Bokuto, who had little to no stacking awareness when he upended the kitchen for a midnight snack). 

Kita bites their lower lip, the stark white fridge light framing their face in unnatural ways.

“You didn’t drink anything at the last get together, so I’m not sure what to offer ya, and the fridge seems to be a bit out of commission.”

When Kita next looks up, Tendou thinks they almost look heavenly in that light, smile gentle and uncertain but still confident in ways Tendou didn’t know people could be. It looks so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. It’s the same confidence Ushijima has, but just ever so slightly more… vulnerable. Like the pillars of heaven weren’t made of beautiful quartz and granite but brittle gold and silver. Like they were trying to steal Tendou away from the land of the living up into their open arms.

The dangers of mortals stepping into the afterlife are well documented, and Tendou isn’t keen on being Persephone the second

“We have some strawberry milkshake at mine, Ushijima-kun says it’s your favourite.”

Yet they still walk next door, like the fool they are.

———

“I fucking hate you.”

“We know, Hoshiumi.”

“I _really_ fucking hate you, specifically.”

“I know, Hoshiumi. You’ve said it eighty-three times this entire trip. I get it.”

“Um, actually Kuroo-san it’s been ninety-eight—“

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at Yachi through the rear-view mirror and she squeaks a quiet apology. Or something that could be an apology if you put it through an intense vaporwave-ifier and then passed it as real music.

The car is quiet for a while. A particularly smug looking Miya Atsumu and a particularly _exhausted_ Miya Osamu sit in one of those fancy-ass baby seats made for dogs, one that has drawings of volleyballs and kittens on it. It’s probably custom made for the stupid cat sitting on Hoshiumi’s lap, _purring_.

Hoshiumi registers Yachi looking at her spit and god knows what might be inside a foxes gut covered flip-phone sadly, and sighs.

“You know that whole thing with your stupid cat being God?” He asks, if only to fill the silence.

Kuroo makes a turn to the right.

“Yeah?”

“What does that make the rest of the zoo?”

They stop at a stoplight and Kuroo turns around a little to look at the bird _nuzzling_ Hoshiumi’s _neck_. Ugh.

“Hinata’s the messiah, we don’t know what the twins are yet.”

Almost on cue both foxes make an inhuman voice from their throat, putting Ylvis hit single ‘The Fox’ to shame a decade after it's already been out of style. The sound makes Yachi squeak and shake in her boots, shrinking in the backseat of Kuroo’s hand me down car (not from his own parents, but Bokuto’s, who Hoshiumi is certain are some kind of billionaires, or not real).

“If,” she pipes up, voice full of fear, “if Kenma-kun is God, then… then those two are the _devil._”

There’s silence for a beat, and it looks like Yachi is going to eat her own phone if for a chance it’d kill her, but it doesn't take long for Kuroo to start laughing that batshit insane laugh of his.

Hoshiumi groans.

“I really really fucking hate you.”

“Yup, ninety-nine times.”

———

One or two 500mg tablets of paracetamol upto four times in 24 hours.

Aran, miraculously, was only on his second in twelve hours when he got the call. It was a peaceful morning, Tendou was out doing some art fieldwork or another and Aran finally had the house to himself. He’d finished all of his university work in anticipation of today and the get together the day following so he could truly enjoy this alone time for the first instance in months. It was just him, his couch, his favourite blanket (courtesy of Granma Kita), and a three hour marathon of his favourite old-school comedians.

Finally, he could relax.

He was mid comfortable overdrawn sigh when he heard the special ringtone- an excerpt from some Shonen Jump anime or another- and instinctively pushed another painkiller out of his reserve. He swallowed it raw and answered the call.

It was exactly who he expected.

For the exact reason he expected.

“Ojiro you gotta help me Kita-san invited me to his house and it’s just me and him and I don’t know what to _do_. Fuck and he’s being so nice and it’s making my chest feel weird and did you know he likes kpop? _Kpop, Ojiro_. It feels so weird and wrong and I- I’m really- Shit. Fuck. You gotta help me dude!!”

“...”

“..Ojiro? Are you there?”

Now Aran doesn’t have much of an opinion on religion, but if there really was a god out there then he thinks that Tendou was probably the payback Aran gets as a result of all the sinning he’s been doing all his life. Not that it was much, but clearly it had to amount to something for him to have to deal with Tendou on the daily. Clearly that meant Aran had some kind of obligation to stay on this call, to leave his alone time and repent for that time he called some actor hot or something. It’d be the spiritually correct thing to do.

It’s a great thing he wasn’t religious.

Aran ends the call, turns his phone on silent, and brings the TV’s volume up a few notches.

Finally, _finally_, he could relax.

———

When Yachi returns to the Bokuro household it’s on her own.

Almost.

It’s her and the animals, each pair in their joint cage.

Their hospital visits had lasted well into the evening, and Yachi forgot to account for one crucial thing during the entire expedition: her own apartment was an hour away by car, three by foot. The train on the other hand could take her from point A to B in maybe fifteen minutes tops, and that would’ve been her initial destination if it weren’t for-

_“Have you guys heard about the murders on the trains these last few weeks? It’s some real Persona 5 shit going on. I think a couple of people died on the station right next to… uh… Yacchan?”_

Needless to say, Yachi really hates Hoshiumi’s obsession with horror movies.

It was enough that he kept bombarding the theatres with shitty B-rated slasher movies every damn weekend when he thinks manager Ukai won’t notice. (he does, he’s watched every one of them from the VIP seats no one’s told Hoshiumi about yet, and he always recounts the gruesome details in the breakroom when Yachi is within earshot.) _Now_ he’d even brought it to Yachi’s own damn life, and to apologize for the cardinal sin of scaring the shit out of her (again, one-hundred and sixty-three times now) he’d offered his bed at the Bokuro’s house.

The only reason Yachi agreed was simple, she’d _seen_ Bokuto. If an axe murderer stepped anywhere near him the dude would drop dead at the sight of Bokuto’s pecs. Or maybe he’d do something stupid enough to burn the murderer alive.

In any case, when Yachi returns to the Bokuro household it’s more or less on her own. 

She already knows Tendou (her other trouble-making coworker) is gonna be there, so she isn’t that surprised to see them. What she _is_ surprised about is the fact that… they don’t seem to see _her._

Tendou is curled up in the middle of the living room, their head buried between their knees.

They look so… quiet. 

Yachi has never seen them look that way before.

“Tendou-san?” she whispers gently, placing the cages on the floor, “Are you okay?”

The sad lump in question moves their head up and wipes at their eyes, smiling a wet smile up at Yachi. It doesn’t suit them at all.

“Yacchan! What a surprise! I was expecting Daishou or Bokuto, what’re you doing here?”

“I’m staying the night,” she unlocks the animals' cages, and both foxes run off into their own new hideouts, causing her to squeak, “ah um the others should be here soonish. They’re just getting groceries cause they don’t have enough for… um all of us. Are you staying the night too?”

Tendou hums as they watch Hinata bounce out of their cage, Kenma taking the longest time to embrace their freedom.

“Probably, it’s a bit late isn’t it?”

“Kuroo-san did say you’d probably end up sleeping here too… we’re having hotpot, so everyone can have something they like.”

Another hum. 

_God this is so awkward._

The atmosphere in the room is abysmal, like someone cut it straight out of a college prep english classroom on the day after their final mocks. Yachi hates it, but she’s sure Tendou must hate it more. Dammit Yachi, _think_, what would mom do in this situation? 

Yachi thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

She turns the little cogs in her brain as hard as possible, searches through every piece of information she’d ever been given, unearths the foundation of her very being only to come to the conclusion that… her mom probably doesn’t have many friends outside of work, if the fact that she _only_ ever gave advice related to work is anything to go by.

Thus Yachi is at a stalemate, sitting by her hurting friend with nothing to say, acting completely and utterly useless. Isn’t she supposed to be assertive? Kind? Cool? What happened to her ‘most likely to stay a good person in the zombie apocalypse’ nomination back in middle school? 

Yachi balls her hands into her fists and wishes, prays even, that she could assert herself _to_ herself. That she could be the kind of person she needs to be right now.

Kenma walks over and sits on her lap, and the action grounds her. 

What use is there for Yachi to be on the verge of tears right now? None. She can pity herself some other time, but right this moment she knows what she needs to do.

“Tendou-san,” she says, voice resolute as she holds both their hands in hers, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

Tendou looks at her with wide eyes, tears threatening to spill.

“I… there’s nothing wrong, really, I’m just being stupid.”

“So?” Yachi says, and the confidence in her voice surprises both the two of them and Hinata, who trills a bit in what might be agreement, “I’m always being stupid, but you… you and Hoshiumi-san and Kuroo-san are always there to make me feel better. I know I’m just a highschool student and a scaredy cat and also a complete and utter disappointment but- but I’m also your friend! And I want to help you! So please Tendou-san… tell me what’s wrong.”

Yachi doesn’t even get a chance to rethink her words before Tendou hugs her. The giant’s spindly arms wrapping all around Yachi, their tears on her shoulders. She hugs back just as hard, not even worrying about the cat still snoozing on her lap. 

They stay like that a while, Tendou melting a little before speaking up in a fragile voice.

“The truth is, I’m in love with someone,” they bury their face in Yachi’s shoulder again, “but that someone has a lover and- and I can’t even bring myself to hate them. Neither of them. They’re both so good to me and I wish they weren’t so I could get over them and live my life.”

“Tendou-san,” Yachi pulls Tendou away just enough to look slightly to the left of their eyes, unable to hold direct eye contact but aware of how much it means to people, “do you _want_ to get over them? Have you even told them how you feel?”

Tendou looks down and rubs at their eyes.

“I don’t, and I haven’t.”

“How long have you liked them for?”

“Uh,” Tendou counts on their fingers, “five years?”

“Five-“ Yachi’s eyes widen incredulously, “_FIVE YEARS?_ Tendou-san if you tell me this is about the Ushijima-san who comes to visit you at work every Thursday I swear to God-“

Kenma finally looks up at Yachi, probably because of how loud her voice suddenly got. The cat looks dangerous and its face alone is probably what gets Tendou to clear their throat.

“Uh, well, maybe?”

_”TENDOU-SAN!”_

“Oh c’mon Hitoka-chan it’s not that strange for me to like my childhood friend-“

“Tendou-san you _idiot_, he _LOVES_ you!!”

“He- wait what?! How would you know that?”

Yachi slaps her hand against her forehead so hard it leaves a nasty red mark in its wake. How could someone be so _stupid?_ It’s not that Yachi knows anything about the giant who calls himself Tendou’s best friend and visits every single Thursday at 3:30 pm in the afternoon on the dot, it’s just that Ushijima Wakatoshi himself has, on multiple occasions and to anyone who would listen, expressed the fact that he is in love with Tendou Satori.

There was the Pride and Prejudice incident. 

The couples Halloween costume incident.

The time Ushijima had specifically told everyone, _including Tendou_ that if he could date them he would.

Worst of all was what he’d told Yachi herself, as she tended to the potted plants outside the theatre, the most damning evidence of all.

“He is aware of my love for him,” he’d said to her, deadpan, “Both me and my partner have stated it to him multiple times. I had also given him a hand written confession on our last day of Highschool. I am beginning to think he does not return my feelings.”

Well Mister Ushijima-san, apparently he _does_.

That, to Yachi, was more than enough stupidity for an eternity, and she has had _enough_. She walks out of the apartment, bashing her fists against the neighbor’s door. When it opens to reveal a six foot four slab of muscle Yachi only squeaks for half a second before steeling her resolve. 

“U-Ushijima-san!”

“Yachi Hitoka.”

“Y-yes! Um! I…”

A second person walks over behind Ushijima, eyes slightly red and visibly tired, “is everything okay?” 

“This is Yachi Hitoka,” Ushijima says, introducing Yachi like this wasn’t a life or death situation, “she is a coworker of Satori’s.”

The second person makes an “oh” sound, before turning to Yachi, waiting for her to say something else. Ushijima raises an eyebrow and she swallows, unsure how to go about saying what she needs to say. So instead she does the one thing she sucks at, and _acts._

Though usually one little Yachi would never be able to move a mountain on her own, Ushijima is a mountain with legs. He lets her pull him to their neighbor’s open door, where Tendou is scrambling to get up despite the onslaught of animals trying to keep them down. The second person follows hurriedly, but not without making sure their own door is locked.

Yachi takes a deep breath, and belts it with all the strength she has in her heart.

“Ushijima-san, Tendou-san loves you! Please, tell them that you’re in love with them!!”

She pushes the mountain, moving two celestial beings on a crash course towards one another, and the mountain _moves_.

It happens in slow motion, that is to say it happens in regular motion, but adrenaline can change your perception of everything. It can make a minute feel like a year, a living room's width feel like a lightyear, and a villager B feel like the saviour of the world itself.

Though as the second person, the one with the kind yet tired eyes, follows Ushijima into the apartment, Yachi thinks maybe that last statement isn’t so wrong. 

The ‘thank you’ that person whispers to her then becomes her strength.

So maybe her mom _was_ right. If you find yourself in a room full of idiots you have to learn to establish yourself as the one in control. It's the only way any of them will get anywhere.

———

There’s nowhere in the world Bokuto loves being more than rooms full of idiots. He knows he tends to outshine them, but when so many stupid people come together their real genius tends to bloom, and Bokuto can finally establish himself as one of the ones in control.

The captain. The pope. The… captain in pirate flavour?

“Bokuto-san,” Yachi says, her voice small and muffled, “do you think I did the right thing?”

Bokuto turns towards Yachi, causing Kuroo to move his nose away from Bokuto’s neck. The whole gang was out having crepes and hot chocolate. Well the whole gang minus Kenma and their little posse, and also plus Yachi. Was Yachi part of their gang? Did Ushijima count anymore? He didn’t really live with him and Kuroo anymore, so obviously the new gang should be Him, Kuroo, Daishou, and Hoshiumi. Hmm then again Bokuto doesn’t really want to exclude any old mates from new gangs…

He stuffs another mouthful of Kuroo’s ginger nut crepe into his mouth. He’d bought it cause the name was to die for, but realized a little too late into his first bite that he _hated_ ginger. God Bokuto loved him so much.

“Bo,” his beautiful boyfriend said, bringing him out of his thoughts, “you’re being questioned.”

“Hm? Oh, oh yeah, definitely! Me and Tetsu’ve been tryina set those three up for a year now.”

Daishou blinks a few times over his cherry sundae, “wait, really?”

“Yeah! Why do you think we keep inviting Tendou over?”

“I thought he just came in and out whenever he wanted,” Hoshiumi added before stealing a chocolate bunny from Yachi’s waffle.

“That’s ‘cause I gave him the key,” Bokuto says matter of factly, “I’ve known Ushiwaka for years now, since right back when we were both competing to be the best middle school spikers. He’s always been great at saying things how they are, but never really at saying them in a way people really get. So I thought that maybe if he had the chance to let things happen naturally he’d appreciate it more. Same reason I invited Teru that one time, and hey it worked right? Gotta say though, I definitely didn’t expect Kita-san and Ushiwaka to get it on, but it was totes a bonus!”

“Wait you- you _planned_ for me and Teru to go out?”

“Hm? ‘Course not silly ‘shou! I just gave you the best atmosphere to make it happen.”

Yachi, Daishou, and Hoshiumi stare at Bokuto with a newfound sense of fear. Kuroo on the other hand melts into his boyfriend’s slightly charred shoulder.

“Oh Bubby, everyday I fall in love with you a little more.”

Bokuto giggles, pressing his lips to Kuroo’s softly.

“And every night I fall more for you, bro.”

———

There are nights in your life where everything could change forever.

Ushijima knows this well.

From the night they moved into Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment at Bokuto’s insistence, and subsequently became part of their lives. The night the three of them decided to start their monthly tradition, and keep their friendships close. The night Ushijima met their father for the first time in over a decade, and the link they harbored between them ever since. The night Ushijima met Kita, freshly made dorayaki in hand, and a bright smile on their face…

There are nights when people come together, and do so for good.

Ever since meeting Kita, Ushijima had felt an emotion they didn’t quite have a name for prior to meeting them. Every night became a night to remember, every kiss and smile and story was one to recount. 

But this feeling wasn’t new to Ushijima, the feeling they had learned to call ‘love’. 

For love was the feeling of hands in theirs, of a smile that makes everything okay, of music and laughter and partnership. Love was the feeling Tendou Satori had evoked in Ushijima for years.

Ushijima, ever the honest one, had said as much to their new partner. It was a calm Friday night, and the two were together at the balcony, enjoying each other’s company alongside the murmurs of their friends from the apartment next to theirs.

“I love them, Shinsuke,” they’d said, voice on the edge of emotion.

“I know.”

“Is that truly okay with you?”

“‘Course it is, why would I ever try n’ keep you to myself ‘Toshi? You have so much love to give, n’ so do I. Not to mention…”

“Hm? Is something the matter?”

“To be honest… There was an incident last week. I was out on the balcony just like this, tendin’ to the hangin’ plants like I always do on a Friday night. I sat out here n’ I started wondering what happiness- real happiness- means to me. I sat there and wondered if I could ever really have it, if maybe if I prayed I’d be able to have that happiness to myself. At first it was just me n’ the moon and Kuroo-san’s cat out on the railing, but before I knew it, it wasn’t just us anymore.”

Kita turned their head to look at the balcony beside them.

“Just like the day I fell for ya, I turned my head a lil’ and noticed ‘em long before they noticed me. They sang a song up towards the moon, holding their hands out to the stars, n’ something in me changed. It was such a simple thing but it… made me real happy.”

Ushijima looked at the balcony beside theirs, they looked past the plants they’d brought with them from home, and wondered what Kita was seeing from their angle. Ushijima’s question was simple, something anyone could ask, yet it stuck with them for months.

“Who were they?”

Kita had taken a deep breath, and looked into Ushijima’s eyes. It’s funny how the world works at times. Though back then Kita wasn’t entirely aware of how important their next words would be, Ushijima now knows their importance, many months later. 

The two of them are standing in their neighbor’s living room, baring their souls to the same person who captured them, confessions on their tongues and hearts on their sleeves.

“Tendou-san,” Kita breathes out, voice still far away, as though the small woman who’d brought them here in the first place had taken it with her.

“Satori,” Ushijima says, and though it’s as strong as everything he says, there’s an undercurrent of fragility to it.

Tendou says nothing, backing away into the balcony, as though they can run away. 

Ushijima has been running away for years.

For as honest as they are, they could never correct Tendou’s misconceptions. Back then Ushijima hadn’t known the word love, but they understood the concept, grasping it in their hands. For every confession they made, Tendou would misunderstand it, and the small bud of uncertainty would keep Ushijima from saying any more on the matter. They’ve been running for years, but they couldn’t keep running forever, not when they had a guardian angel to bring them this far.

Not when this confession isn’t just their own.

The three end up on the balcony, Tendou’s back against the railing, starlight in their eyes, Ushijima’s left hand on their cheek.

“Satori,” they whisper, small and vulnerable as a prayer, “we love you.”

“We..?” Tendou squeaks out, face ablaze.

“We,” Kita whispers for confirmation, placing their shaking right hand onto Tendou’s other cheek.

_(“Who were they?” _

_“I think… they were the answer to my prayers.”)_  
The world is quiet. The night stands still. Ushijima stays outside, heart full, Tendou in both Ushijima and their partner’s arms. They’d said their piece, as short as it was, and for once he knows it was heard. They don’t even notice the cat walk back inside, as though its job was finally done.  
It’s a few minutes past midnight on what is now a Saturday night, that Tendou Satori learns love by its name.  
———

Hoshiumi hates his fucking apartment. 

It’s clean, but it’s a mess. There’s pet toys everywhere, soil out in the balcony, sticky notes with happy quotes on every possible surface, a working bathroom with the shittiest owl print tiling, plenty of food and other inedible looking protein shit in the back of the fridge… 

It’s a well lived in home, with lively people, and livelier pets. It’s the closest thing to purgatory Hoshiumi has ever seen.

Still he can’t help but _want_ to hate it, despite how good it’s been to him. For as much good as there is, there is equally as much completely batshit crazy bad, and Hoshiumi wants to try and be cynical about it even if he isn’t really the cynical type in the first place. Really, he just likes picking fights, which is both difficult and impossibly easy with the other tenants living with him. 

The one who Hoshiumi thinks understands his emotions best has to be the Daishou-or-maybe-Daiki guy. Dude’s been writing a bingo game of things he wouldn’t be surprised to see in this stupid apartment for upwards a year now. That is to say, it would be bingo if bingo was a list, and had almost thirty-two different outcomes, of which twenty-one were already crossed out.

Hoshiumi looks it over, admires the surprisingly immaculate handwriting, and makes a mental note to ask about #10. There’s absolutely no way Bokuto managed to bring an entire flamethrower into the apartment and not burn it down. Then again, considering the burnt smell that followed Bokuto around all day today, maybe it wasn’t impossible.

He shakes his head and turns the lock, trudging inside his shared apartment.

Now even in Hoshiumi’s wildest dreams he would’ve never expected the pencil Daishou had given him- just in case he has to cross something off the list from the _second_ he received it- would already come in handy. This is probably more of a statement on how mild Hoshiumi’s dreams were more than anything, and he resigns to taking the pencil out of his pants’ pocket.

He grimaces in disgust and crosses off #2: three grandparents getting rowdy on the living room table, before crashing in Daishou’s room. 

He falls into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.


	5. The Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kuroo cries again Bokuto’s heart doesn’t hurt. In fact, he feels good. Blessed even. A miracle had occurred that night, and with luck, it would continue on to the rest of their lives.
> 
> ———
> 
> All together it finally makes sense, the true miracle, the thing they’d all been waiting for. (Love, love, love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is descriptions of a fire in this chapter, if you want to avoid them they start at “it’s when he finished that he realized Kenma was no longer in the room.” And end with “Next thing he knew-“.
> 
> I’m running late on a lesson but I wanted to post this right now. Thank you, to everyone who’s read this self indulgent labour of love. To drubsie, who is my miracle, and to all my friends who indulge me in my silly stories and pairings. This story is a year in the making, and I’m happy with how it ended.
> 
> Maybe with luck I’ll one day decide to make an epilogue, for now this is it.
> 
> It’s been a pleasure!

The morning air is cool through the window. The birds are singing playfully. The world is at peace. All is well.

Yachi wakes up in an unfamiliar but comfortable bed, surrounded by anime figures and inspirational posters, as well as a particularly funny looking cat.

“Hello Kenma,” Yachi whispers to the cat, who drops an item into her hand.

It’s a little Ketty-chan doll, it’s covered in a bit of cat spit but Yachi has had to deal with worse over the last twenty four hours. It’s cute and well loved, but probably not well loved by a _cat,_ since it’s in pretty good condition.

“Is this for me?” Yachi smiles and pets the cat’s head. Kenma doesn’t respond, but lets Yachi pet their head a little more. “If this is your way of apologizing on behalf of the others, then know there’s someone else you’re supposed to say sorry to. I know I’m sleeping in his bed right now, but that doesn’t make me a substitute for him, okay?”

God Yachi, talking to the cat like a crazy person now? She sighs and tips her head back onto the headboard. To be fair she probably isn’t the only one to do so if all the stories she’s heard over crepes yesterday are true.

Yachi yawns and walks outside, hit with the gentle smell of breakfast.

“Hitoka-chan!” Tendou calls out from the kitchen across the hall. When he comes out it’s with a matching pair of bright hickeys on either side of his neck, and Yachi blushes and squeaks her eyes away.

Kita chuckles from next to Tendou, and Yachi refuses to look at them if only to save her heart the trouble.

“Me and the boys are making breakfast,” Kuroo calls out, from inside the Kitchen, and Yachi notices too late that the three of them are wearing matching aprons. 

“I thought we were your boys,” Bokuto pouts from next to Yachi on the couch.

“Yeah, none of them are even boys, Tetsu!” Terushima, the guy Daishou is dating, and who is currently sitting on said boyfriend's lap next to Bokuto on the couch, says.

“We’re being replaced,” Daishou adds dramatically.

“How do you like your eggs, Hitoka-chan?” Kita cuts through.

The dynamics between the people in the room make Yachi giggle, and she answers with a smile, “fried and flipped please.”

All three cooks dip back into the kitchen, and Bokuto and the terrible twosome return to their prior conversation about whether birds or reptiles are better.

Back on the dinner table Aran and Ushijima are catching up, sharing stories about their respective roommates, and…

“Oh my God, you guys dressed up the twins?”

Aran smiles sheepishly, “I was on my way here and passed by a pet store that sells dog costumes and I just couldn’t help it,” he holds up a docile Osamu dressed up in a little devil outfit and smiles, “ain’t they cute?”

Ushijima nods thoughtfully, “the fact that they match is particularly interesting.” While Osamu looks entirely unimpressed, Atsumu is almost strutting in his angel one.

Yachi giggles again. “Hey,” she starts, a bright and easy smile on her face, “Is Tendou-san going to move in next door now, with everything that happened?”

“Well, a single night of sex does not necessarily imply a group of people should move in together-“

_“Ushijima-san-!”_

“However I have known Satori for a very long time. I will have to bring it up with both my partners first, but I imagine the answer will be yes.”

Aran hums sadly, playing with Atsumu’s ears.

“Y’know, for as much of a headache as that Tendou is… I think I’m gonna miss him? It’ll be strange living on my own out of the blue like that, even if it feels like I’m living alone most of the time.”

Yachi nods, “I get it, when I first moved out I didn’t expect it to be so lonely.” She looks around at the occupants of the house, heart heavy. “To tell you the truth… this was the best morning I’ve had in a really, really long time.” 

Her face must’ve been particularly melancholy, because the next thing she knows there’s a tentative sort of quiet in the room.

“Where do you live, Yacchan?” Bokuto pipes up, seemingly bored with watching Terushima and Daishou attempting to suck face not-quite-so discreetly.

“Eh?!” Yachi blushes a little, gesturing something or another with her hands, “ah, it’s a few hours away.”

“Really!” Bokuto’s eyebrows rise up, and it makes him look a little like the emoticons Yachi swears by, “but isn’t your university and job like, super close by?”

“Well yes but…” Yachi sweats a little, “the apartment is my great uncle’s, so rent is cheaper and stuff.”

“If rent’s the problem why don’t you just move into this place? My moms own it y’know!”

Another beat of silence. The cogs in Yachi’s brain move as though through the sweet honey of the early morning. Move in? Here? As in, live right across the hall? To Bokuto? Wouldn’t that be dangerous…?!

“Wait, huh?!” Yachi’s mouth opens so wide she might have worried that one of the foxes could jump into it if she wasn’t too busy coming to terms with the offer.

“Same with you Aran-kun,” Bokuto looks over, “you can just live next door, then you won’t ever feel lonely!”

Aran sweats a little, fumbling for something in his pocket, “that won’t be necessary, I think I’d take a little more loneliness than having to worry about my building half burning down again-”

“It was _one time,_” Bokuto whines, pouting enough that Terushima giggles beside him.

“-But… um,” Aran continues, a complicated look on his face, “I could always speak to my landlord about finding a replacement housemate after Tendou leaves, if you’re still considering living closer by, Yachi-san.”

Yachi’s eyes widen a little more. Aran, unlike Bokuto or any of the other tenants in this apartment building, is actually reasonable. Maybe not _that_ reasonable, after all he has to be able to deal with Tendou. Not to mention it isn’t a secret to anyone that he’s the kind of person who gets both caught up in other’s shenanigans and makes them worse. Then again, isn’t Yachi the same? And wouldn’t it be kind of fun, having someone to hang out with who isn’t the little voice in her own head?

“I…” she bites her lip. 

In theory it sounds like a great idea, the kind of conclusion she sees in the cute manga she reads during breaks, but wouldn’t it be difficult? She remembers the Ketty-chan toy Kenma had given her before, squeezes it gently in her pocket. Of course it’d be difficult. Nothing good in life _isn’t_. There’s Tendou’s relationship with Ushijima and Kita, and Aran’s patience with it all. There’s Bokuto's penchant for causing trouble, both for the good and bad of everyone involved. There’s Kuroo with every one of the animals he’d accidentally adopted, and Hoshiumi, who has to deal with them for the good of having a proper home.

Yachi takes in a deep breath, and holds the Ketty-chan to her chest, “I’d appreciate it a lot, Aran-san.”

It’s in that moment that Yachi felt as though she’d finally grown a little more. Maybe not in height, or voice, or anything physical; but in the ability to make a decision, and stick to it.

Bokuto jumps off of the couch to celebrate just in time for him to accidentally tackle a newly awakened Hoshiumi, and the sound of laughter feels like a celebration in it’s own right.

—

So then it makes sense that in this moment of true meditation, where Kuroo has never felt so at peace with both himself and the universe before, that he has a moment of religious epiphany.

(Bokuto didnt start a fire but he did save a dog from one)

\---

Bokuto huffed, his arms mixing all manner of ingredients haphazardly as he loudly sang a song of his own design. He’d been hard at work from the moment Kuroo left the apartment, tired and sleepy from the horror that was the _buy one ticket get one half off on all romcoms_ promotion that Ukai always put up right before Valentines.

It was some day or another in their second year. Bokuto had been too busy parsing the ancient scriptures of a pinterest cooking site to really make note of what day of the week it was. The _important_ thing was that it was the thirteenth of February. That is to say, Valentines eve. Sure, no one called it that _yet_, but they would be by the time Bokuto was 25, he was sure of it.

Ah, shit. The butter. He forgot to put the butter in.

“God, this whole baking thing is _Hard_, isn’t it Kenma?”

Kenma meowed at Bokuto, who waved a wooden spoon back at the cat. It was a shame that Ushijima had moved out a month prior, but Bokuto could understand why. With the big guy’s new boyfriend next door there really was no reason for him to live with Bokuto and Kuroo anymore, y’know? It made sense, but it still filled Bokuto with a lot of… emotions.

Loneliness, for one. When it was all three of them there was never a moment when Bokuto was alone, but now between Kuroo’s new job at the theatre and Ushijima’s whole love life thing, Bokuto found himself alone with Kenma a lot more than he liked. This of course could be remedied, and the tenant agreements were always ready for a new person- with luck, a new person being that party animal Daishou- to come and sign them. 

Pride, for a second. Bokuto was still under the impression that he’d been the reason Ushijima and Kita had gotten together after all. Really, he would never have a reason to think otherwise. Sure accidentally climbing onto the wrong balcony on a dare wasn’t the most romantic of ways to give Kita an excuse to talk to Ushijima, but it’d worked!

The third though… The third was one that wasn’t quite as easy to deal with. Bokuto was _jealous_. He was jealous that Ushijima got to live with the person he loved, and though yes Bokuto technically got to do that too, Kuroo didn’t really know about the whole. Love. Thing.

Bokuto scrunched up his nose as he put the cake pan in the oven. He put the heat up to something or another, head too full to fully concentrate, and then moved to his room. He sat down at his cramped, messy desk and then reached under his bed for the special pink paper he bought just for today.

His plan was simple: Step one, bake a valentines cake. Step two, give Kuroo a heartfelt romantic letter. Step three, profit.

Well, hopefully anyway.

Step two was proving itself to be _difficult_ though. Every time Bokuto got three words in he’d change his mind, or spell check things and find out he’d accidentally written an assassination note and not a confession. 

“Gahhh!!!” Bokuto pulled his hair and tipped himself back in his chair after the sixty fifth attempt in a row. He overshot the movement just a little too much, and toppled over unceremoniously onto the ground. 

Kenma found him lying down crumpled on the floor in a pile of equally crumpled love letters. The cat padded over, climbing onto Bokuto’s face unceremoniously, causing him to groan. Bokuto grumbled a little, picking up Kenma into his arms, dejected.

“This is impossible, Kenken… I’ll never be able to show Kuroo just how amazing he is at this rate.” Bokuto sighed, tears lacing his vision. He rubbed his face with the back of his arm and held Kenma tight. “I wish… I just wish I could have what Ushiwaka has, y’know? I love Kuroo so much… I wish I knew if he felt the same.”

Though it didn’t really change much of the reality at hand, Kenma licked Bokuto’s nose. It reminded Bokuto of a fact he’s nearly forgotten, and that was the fact that Kuroo’s heart was ginormous. First he’d found space in it for this stray cat, and then for this stray owl too. The thought was comforting, the knowledge that Kuroo loves unconditionally. Whether or not he’d love Bokuto back in the same way didn’t matter. They’d be best bros no matter what, right? It was this train of thought that finally made the words click in Bokuto’s head. He got back up and leaned into the desk, pencil flying over the pink papers like an owl in the night. An owl… of love.

It’s when he was finished that he realized that Kenma was no longer in the room. Eager to share the finished product with his fuzzy housemate, Bokuto ran out of the room. Then it hit him.

Orange.

Bright.

Blinding.

Hot.

_Hot._

“BOKUTO-SAN! BOKUTO-SAN!!”

Bokuto only barely registered Kita’s voice outside his door. The fire engulfed everything just outside the kitchen. The wallpaper, the wooden chairs, the cabinets. Smoke filled Bokuto’s lungs as his eyes took in the ambers and the subsequent shattering of his front door.

“Bokuto-san,” Ushijima’s voice rung out, loud and laced with fear so slight it barely came through, “Bokuto-san, where are you? Are you okay?” 

Both of Bokuto’s neighbors ran towards him breathing sighs of relief, they moved to pull him out before the smoke cleared from Bokuto’s mind and he realized.

_”Kenma. Kenma’s still in here!”_

Understanding flitted through his neighbors’ eyes, and the two of them ran into the nearest rooms to search for the cat. Bokuto took the living room, calling out as loudly as he could, hoping with every bit of him that he wasn’t too late. Fuck. Where was he?! 

It’s when both Kita and Ushijima regroup with him that Bokuto noticed it. Right there in the middle of the kitchen island was a bundle of fur Bokuto would recognize anywhere. In a second he was running towards it, clothes and hair blazing like the feathers of a phoenix.

Kenma jumped into Bokuto’s arms. He stumbled backwards out of the kitchen, collapsing onto the living room floor. All of a sudden the world was a blur. Heat, mixed with the sound of sirens, and a voice that could calm Bokuto’s heart no matter what happens. The blur messed with his senses, causing him to cough dizzily, until eventually the world went black.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting in a hospital bed, doctors buzzing around him like ants in a fire.

Bokuto went to close his eyes again when a pair of strong, familiar arms surrounded his shoulders.

“Bokuto… bokuto…!”

“Ku..roo..?” 

Kuroo was crying. Bokuto could feel the tears and his bedhead tickling his cheeks. He hugged him back. It was nice. It was warm. Warm?

“Wait- wait- where’s Kenma?!”

Kuroo pulled away just enough to stroke his thumb over Bokuto’s cheek. His smile was silly, made only sillier by the way tears pooled in the corners of his mouth. “He’s fine. He didn’t get hurt at all. You saved him.”

“I did?” Bokuto relaxed back into the bed, breathing a sigh of relief, “thank God.”

Kuroo ruffled Bokuto’s hair beneath his hands, and chuckled wetly. It sounded like a sob, but he nuzzled his nose into Bokuto’s cheek despite it.

“The doctors said there was a 25% chance you might not make it. I was so fucking scared, dude. So, so fucking scared.”

“More scared than you were after Hoshi-kun’s horror marathon…?”

“Way more scared.”

Bokuto blinked up at him owlishly. “Why?”

“Oh my God. Bo you just had a near death fucking experience, are you seriously questioning why I was scared-“

“But 25% means,” Bokuto began counting on his fingers, carrying the one and everything, “that I had like- a 75% chance of living! That’s a huge number dude! There’s no way that counts as a near death experience. Besides, I’m fine!”

Kuroo looked at Bokuto like he’d seen a ghost, or a cat creating life from thin air. Then he laughed. Kuroo laughed bright, blinding and beautiful, so beautiful that Bokuto knew the love was dripping from his own laughter. It was the first time Kuroo had stopped whispering since Bokuto had woken up, and it’s in that moment that Bokuto had an epiphany. He realized that this was it. This was all he’d ever want, now and forever and for the rest of his life.

He looked at Kuroo, and Kuroo looked right back at him. If Bokuto hadn’t been so caught up in his moment, maybe he’d realized that Kuroo was having his own moment too. 

“What were you doing anyway?” Kuroo chuckled, threading his fingers through Bokuto’s and running his thumb over the tendon behind Bokuto’s. “How’d you manage to half burn down your parent’s apartment that badly?” 

“I was-“ Bokuto started, bright as ever.

And then he remembered. 

Oh. Oh shit. 

“Gahh!!” He put his face in his hands, shaking it with disbelief, “Shit, the cake! The letter!”

Kuroo blinked at him again, and then smirked, “cake? Letter? What’s the occasion bro?” 

“Valentines dude! They were for valentines!”

“Oh,” Kuroo looked away, and he kind of seemed dejected. The sight tugged every one of Bokuto’s heart strings, and he gripped Kuroo’s hand tighter as a result. “Well then, whoever you were making them for had better like you back, your passion nearly burned down my fucking cat!”

Bokuto watched him chuckle awkwardly, studying the curves of his face and the downwards tug of his lips. Bokuto licked his own. He sat up straighter, scooted closer to Kuroo even though the light burns hurt when he did. He inched closer. His hand ghosting over Kuroo’s chest, uncertain.

“Well, do you?”

Kuroo visibly startles at the question. 

“D-do I what?”

Bokuto guides his face to look at him with a gentle hand to his jaw.

“Do you like me back?”

When Kuroo cries again Bokuto’s heart doesn’t hurt. In fact, he feels good. Blessed even. A miracle had occurred that night, and with luck, it would continue on to the rest of their lives.

—  
The night ends as most good things do; with a couple shots of vodka, a can of cherry cider, a cup of strawberry milkshake, and a few kettles of tea.

Hoshiumi looks around the small but comfortable apartment he’s somehow gotten to call home. The mismatched chairs littering the rooms, each a hand me down, or brought in from the next door neighbors. The pillows and blankets haphazardly thrown across every surface. The little ceramic animal figures Terushima had brought in, the good luck charms Kita gave them, the poster Yachi had designed, and the rebuilt shitty shrine he knew of only from anecdotes- the one that started the whole cat thing in the first place. 

Then, Hoshiumi looks at all the people he’s somehow gotten to call friends. He looks at the smiles on their faces, comfortable, loving, awkward, careless and free. Ushijima, and Kita, arms touching, with Tendou across their laps. Daishou and Terushima sharing an armchair. Bokuto and Kuroo lounging on each other, like cats in a cradle, with the two other Nekoma alumni- Kai and Yaku, pressed up against them. Hell even Yachi is resting her drunk little head on Aran’s shoulder, who’s respectfully covered her in a blanket, the twin foxes peacefully asleep in each of his arms. 

Hoshiumi looks at them, and maybe it’s just the alcohol speaking for him, but for once he feels… lovesick. Defeated even. Like all the zip he’s got in him washed away, just like that.

All they are is a group of tired teenagers all cuddled on their floor, hearts full of the drug called love, and arms full of one another. 

He sighs and lets himself sink into their couch, the one with the ugly upholstery that Hoshiumi swears looks like someone pissed on it. The cat- no, _Kenma_\- brushes their little forehead against his hand, and the touch is warm and gentle. He notices a little flurry of orange moving beside the couch, and in his sudden burst of kindness he pulls Hinata up to rest on his chest too.

He looks down at the two animals in his arms, and pulls them closer, letting their warmth engulf him. The night air is cool through the window. The cicadas are humming playfully. The world is finally at peace.

Now Hoshiumi isn’t the kind to think about religion, especially not ones where pissy cats reign supreme. But maybe for now, just in this moment, he’s a believer. Maybe just this second, he knows there’s gotta be _something_ out there. Something that brought all those people, so different from one another, together. Maybe Hoshiumi is a little thankful for that fact, even though he can't help but feel longing, his own couch oceans away from the blanketfuls of humans splayed out across from him. And maybe, just maybe, it’s for that reason that Hoshiumi mumbles his own little prayer into his companions fur.

It’s not that Hoshiumi sees God in that moment. He experiences no rapture, nor does he follow any scripture, he has no epiphany or revelation of any kind.  
But it’s undeniable, that right then and there? 

The feeling of warm fur and feathers against his cheeks feels like nothing less than a miracle.

—

Once upon a time there was a child.

He was lonely, shy, incapable of speaking to others, as though something essential was missed out when he was made. He walked home alone, watching the snow pile around his feet as the other highschool first years made angels and built pillars that pointed to the heavens.

Snow obstructed his vision, making his tears solidify into crystals on their way down. The world was so cold, so cruel. Though he had hobbies he didn’t have the guts to ask anyone to help him indulge. Though his home was big enough he had no one to invite into it. Though his heart was endless it was empty of people to fill it with.

The child watched the scenery as it changed to gray. He watched the lights in people's homes and the smiles as they joined one another for simple get togethers, and it hurt.

Was there truly no one in the world for him? Was he always going to be alone, for the rest of his life? 

Was he never going to have a true friend?

Kuroo Tetsurou looked up at the heavens, saw the endless cloudy skies and thought of what these people had that he never did. Was it really his personality, or was it just pure luck? 

“Please God,” he thought, eyes welded shut and hands put together in prayer, “I know I ask for a lot, I know I’m a little brat and, and that I cause a lot of trouble but…”

“All I really need is one true friend.”

Suddenly there was a crash from a nearby alleyway. Kuroo jumped, sliding a bit on the snowy ground before catching himself. It sounded like something had fallen and toppled the nearby trash cans over, and even though Kuroo was known for his curiosity he wasn’t sure if he should risk getting close to it and finding a robber or something.

That is until he heard the weak, muffled, meow from inside the alleyway.

Kuroo shuffled in, following the sound. He gingerly moved some of the trash around before noticing a hole in the snow. He approached it carefully, hands out in front of him in the darkening alley. And then he saw it.

A calico kitten. Small, weak and half frozen. Its face seemed perpetually grumpy, and the fur on its head was overgrown in a way that almost made it look like hair. It was shivering. It was so small. 

It was everything Kuroo had ever asked for.  
He reached his hands over carefully, and picked up the kitten, wrapping it in his school jacket carefully. It didn’t have a collar, and he’d have to check for chip, someone probably forgot the poor thing out here in the cold and-

The kitten reached out and pawed at the tear streaks on Kuroo’s cheek, curling closer to him. He looked at the cat with wide eyes, feeling his heart thaw out.

“Kenma.” Kuroo breathed out, and the vapour curled around the kitten gently. “That’s your name now,” he whispered, feeling every inch of him light up when the cat responded to it, “and you… are going to be my best friend.”

It was on that day, years and years before our story began, that a miracle occured.  
It was a snowy third Saturday of the month, when Kuroo met his first and best friend.

—

When Hoshiumi wakes up the next day, it’s to the feeling of the worst hangover of his life. 

Hell, it’s so bad, that he barely feels like he can _breathe._

He groans, vaguely registering feeling a hand run through his coarse hair. He blinks his eyes open only to find his vision completely obstructed by the familiar sight of orange, blonde and brown. He sighs, already used to having to push his two small and annoying feral housemates off him, before he moves to try and get up.

It’s only then that he realizes that there’s a lot more weight on him than he remembered there being before he fell asleep. And also that the hand in his hair is far too big to be his own, and that there’s another hand on his chest, and two in his own two hands.

There are two grown people laying on top of Hoshiumi. There are two grown _weird but strangely familiar people_ laying on top of Hoshiumi.

“Hoshiumiiii,” the ginger one, the one with the hair the color of the sun, all but squawks, “a few more minutes!!”

Hoshiumi, who may or may not be on the verge of a mental breakdown, opens his mouth to make some kind of incredibly useless statement like ‘what the fuck’ or ‘oh my God’ or ‘what the HELL was in the cider Daiki bought’, but is instantly shut up when the second person looks up at him.

The world stands still. 

There they laid basking in the light of the sun seeping through the shutters in the first moments of dawn, glowing like a beacon or an otherworldly star. A spitting image of Michelangelo’s “Creazione di Adamo”. Heaven itself opens up to Hoshiumi, and it’s gates are the strangely colored two-toned shoulder length hair of a completely familiar human being. Their limbs extend gracefully like the tools of enlightenment, and their skin is speckled with the secrets of every universe.

It’s right then and there, at Ass o’clock in the am on a Sunday morning, that Hoshiumi Kourai sees God.

And God, where they _hot_.


End file.
